Animal
by AriaCloudrunner
Summary: What if Shmi had a daughter? Giving birth in the Tusken camp, unknown to all. After her death the child is adopted by her surviving captors.
1. Prologue

**Hello and welcome to 'Animal'!  
For once I'm going slightly-canon. This is just tweaked a little bit... well, okay, a lot.  
Anyway, I don't own Star Wars or any of its afilliates. _(If only...)_  
Enjoy the fic, and please review!  
**_

* * *

_

_Shmi Skywalker groaned, shifting in her bonds.  
What was in store for her today, she wonderd. What horrors, what tortures would the animals subject her to? What must she endure?  
A rustling sound announced to her beaten ears the arrival of a Tusken. It bent towards her, holding something that her eyes, glued closed with caked blood, couldn't make out. Whatever it was, it felt cool. Sharp. She stiffened, awaiting the stinging bite of the weapon against her flesh.  
It cut deep, bringing bubbling blood forth from Shmi's cheek. She tried to scream in her agony, but her throat was too starved of moisture. The sharp moved towards her stomach. No... No... No! She wanted to lash out, rip the sharp from the Raider's grasp and plunge it into the nearest vital organ. But she couldn't. She could only stare helplessley through sightless eyes as her swollen belly was carved into like a child's finger running through sand.  
The pain filled her mind, overwhelming anything else. Her torturer left, satisfied with its efforts. The pain remained, ever-constant...  
It changed. A wracking pain shot through her body. She spasmed.  
It was coming._

_She heard the noise as if from far away. Was it a Tusken coming to return her most precious of precious things? Why would they do that, she thought bitterly. It would be too kind. My child... my dear child...  
As if in answer to her thoughts, Anakin Skywalker fell to his knees beside her.  
"I'm here, mom..."  
She couldn't believe it. He had grown. He was handsome. He was her little Annie... no more. She stroked his face, choking out her last words.  
"I...love..." Anakin heard.  
But she hadn't said it._

_  
Through the carnage of the wrecked camp, a masked girl walked. There lay her father, protecting her mother and little sister to the end. What monster could have done this? Sadly, she clutched the human babe in her arms. The words she spoke were in the harsh Tusken language, but nothing could ever have been said sweeter.  
"Hush... hush... Olive. Don't cry..."_


	2. Tusken

**In this chapter, _Tusken_ is being spoken, however, since I know one word of it, it's in Basic- for your convenience.  
(uli-ah is the Tusken word for child, btw.)  
*Special mention to artemiswolfboy- if you didn't like the names last chapter, you'll hate me now! evil laugh*  
I don't own Star Wars. My name is not George. Come to think of it, I don't even _know_ a George- oh, wait! One in my old photography class...**  


* * *

**This chapter is set close to 15 years since the prologue- in the year 7 BY, to be precise. **

* * *

"Olive! _Olive!_ Bring Quphi and get here _now!_"

"I'm _coming,_ K'qui'ca'ck!"

The sand was swirling faster and faster. I pulled my bindings tighter around my face, turning to squint towards my SandMother. Quphi shuffled uneasily beside me. I stroked her long, shaggy fur.

"Easy, easy now. She won't get angry at us. Not for a while yet. Now, come on." I swung easily into my handmade saddle. This was the life. Racing sandstorms, out in the dune sea, atop my greatest friend, with a carer who never got angry...

"Uli-ah! If you're not here _right now,_ which you're _not,_ I will personally tear your head off with your bantha's horns!"

Right. Forgot about A'g'gaf'gt. That Tusken would pick a fight with his own bantha.

I shook the reins a little. "Ququ!" I called softly. She moved off swiftly, gracefully curving over the golden sand. Together, Quphi and I went like nothing else. Even A'g'gaf'gt was jealous of our skill. Mind you, it didn't shut him up about how he kept that human alive for six weeks before it died. Drawing up beside the mated adults, I sneered down at A'g'gaf'gt.

"Don't call me Uli-ah."

K'qui'ca'ck stifled a snigger.

* * *

I lay out on the warm sand, letting the tiny grains carried by the wind brush against me. My long hood partly obscured the view of two bright suns shining brightly, like two magnificent jewels dipping into the horizon. There was a shuffling beside me.

"Hi, K'qui'ca'ck."

She lay beside me.

"What are you looking at?"

"The sky. The suns. The distant dunes."

She gave me an odd look, tilting her covered head to one side. "Why?"

"I'm testing the wind. There's a strange scent..."

"Probably Hieln." I stared at her before laughing gutterally to match.

"So... why are you here?"

"Can't a SandMother come to see her uli-ah?"

"I'm _not _an uli-ah!"

"For a few weeks more, you are. A'lzale is, too."

"K'qui'ca'ck!" I wailed.

"What?"

We were interrupted by the Storyteller. "You two! It is time!"

My bloodrite was to begin tonight. Before I could set off to capture my prize, the entire clan was to be treated with a story.

K'qui'ca'ck escorted me to the fireside while the twin suns sunk lower, darkening the open dunes surrounding our camp. Hieln came and sat by my feet. I pulled a bone from around the fire and tossed it to him. His massiff jaws made quick work of it. A'lzale came and slumped next to me.

"Ready?"

"Of course. And I'll bring back better quarry than you."

He snorted in contempt. "I doubt it."

"And I'll keep it alive longer."

"You? Never."

I reached out and whacked the back of his skull. The Storyteller turned her back on us purposefully. We fell into silence.

"Apon the dunes of Tattooine, a clan made their camp. For generations they had returned to this place, always for the bloodrite of their uli-ah. One morning, a Tusken took a human. It lasted long against skillful torture, giving the uli-ah higher status every day. Alas, as the twin suns set on the captive's Last Day, the Desert Demon appeared. He could not be stopped- he was a Ghost. He took vengeance on the Tuskens, mercilessley slaughtering them all with his glowing weapon, the weapon of a Demon. None in the camp survived. The young uli-ah returned with a new-born she had merely been looking after to find her clan massacred. Taking up her Bantha, she rode far and fast to safety- the safety of our clan. And to this day, we protect the survivors of the Demon's wrath- K'qui'ca'ck and Olive."

The clan sat, mesmerised by her words. But then, she continued.

"It is tonight that the circle may be completed. Olive starts on her bloodrite this very night. May she find a worthy quarry, and perform her rite well. Then we can only hope the spirit will be laid to rest."

K'qui'ca'ck dragged me to my feet, urging me to walk to every Tusken. Each one bestowed a word of good tidings, which were repeated for A'lzale after me.

And then we were out of the circle, beside our Banthas, facing a dark planet and a great challenge.

I leapt swiftly onto Quphi.

"Ququ!"


	3. Bloodrite

**No real notes for this chapter, except that for the most part this is in Tusken still. Anything said in basic will be underlined.  
Please review! Please? Pretty please? With a cherry (or some similar delicious tidbit) on top?  
I don't own Star Wars. Else why would I be on writing this? I'd be making movies and livin' large! (I can dream...)**

* * *

Silence.

The cool night wind blew Quphi's fur into disarray, scattering my thoughts. A foreign scent reached my senses. Instantly I was alert, in silence.

And in that silence I pulled my Gaderffii from the side of my saddle. The wind died down. The scent moved further away. I replaced my Gaffi stick and urged Quphi on, keeping a bound hand close to my Cycler.

There was nothing to be found.

* * *

I approached the homestead stealthily. A young human walked alone, kicking sand with clumsy feet. It was shorter than me, but not by much. I could easily take it…

"Lu-uke! Luke!"

"Luke, get in here!"

Two adults were watching over him. The male looked muscular. That one would be a better option, but I was unsure if I was strong enough to take it down. Shaking my head, I offered a call of challenge. The man brought out a long-range blaster. I sighed. No luck.

"Ququ!"

* * *

I set up a small shelter under a rocky overhang for the sunrise. The cliff face I leaned against yielded three gourds. I shoved one into a hidden pocket of my saddle and cracked the other two open.

"Quphi… come here!" She obediently ambled over. I tossed her a Hubba. For a moment, we savoured the sour liquid together. Not allowing myself to be distracted, I threw away the empty gourd, leaping atop my Bantha once more.

"Ququ!"

* * *

"_Hou?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Did you hear that?"_

"_Hear what, Klait?"_

"_I'm going out to check, okay?"_

"_Be careful. Owen said he heard some Sand People last night."_

"_So? I'll take a blaster. Don't worry yourself. I'll be back in a minute."_

_A yell rang out. Then a Tusken's call._

"_Klait … Klait? __**KLAIT!**__"_

A'g'gaf'gt looked up as I rode triumphantly back to camp, the male human strapped to the back of my saddle.

"You took your time."

"I reaped the benefits."

He noticed the human. It stirred slightly. "Hou?" Its accent was strange. A'g'gaf'gt put his face close to the human.

"Okay- I'm impressed."

"I thought as much. Where do I take it?"

"Go next to A'lzale. He came back yesterday. With a dewback. A big one, but…"

Under my mask, I grinned. "I won."

* * *

I paced before the human, tied securely to the walls of my tent. Its head lolled onto its chest.

"So, what are you going to do to me, you monster?"

It was speaking a language so bizarre I had to laugh. It cringed.

"You MONSTER!" I ignored the not-quite-words with strange sounds, focusing instead on its face. Its _unblemished_ face. I pulled a shard of durasteel from behind by back. In one swift motion, it cut into his cheek, stopping only at the bone. It screamed.

The noise hurt my ears. I picked up my Gaderffii and hit the human's shoulder. It crumpled. Leaving it to bleed, I walked out of the tent. K'qui'ca'ck and A'lzale were waiting for me.

"I believe congratulations are in order." He said grumpily.

"Thanks, A'lzale. Well done for that dewback."

He ignored my obvious jibe. "Can I see it?"

"Go ahead. All it does is babble in some strange language with too many sounds."

"Basic, probably." K'qui'ca'ck answered for us. "That's what they speak. You're right, it's a ludicrous sound."

A'lzale stepped inside my tent. I heard some more 'Basic' babble. K'qui'ca'ck turned to me.

"I'm very proud of you, Olive. You've proven your strength a thousand times, and now once more."

"I only have strength because of you."

"From the day the Demon came, I knew you were special. You saved me then, and you'll save the clan now."

I couldn't find any words to reply with. The burden that our Storyteller had laid upon me weighed heavy. I asked K'qui'ca'ck where she was- I needed her wisdom.

"She told a tale wrong last night."

Ah. Her wisdom was not available.

* * *

The human lasted for two weeks before it stopped talking.

My rites of adulthood were looming ever-closer, and A'lzale began spending all his time not taken with the dewbak with me. I was flattered that my friend was likely to choose me as his mate.

I continued my bloodrite, torturing the human three times a day, taking breaks only to ride Quphi with A'lzale and Fsii, his Bantha. Every day I gained face in my clan. Every day I grew older.

The day it finally died, the human spoke. It had been twenty-seven long days since I had captured it.

"_Hou… I love…"_

My fun was over. The bloodrite was complete.

* * *


	4. Stormy Weather

**Hi folks!  
Thanks for staying with me on this one, glad you like it enough to read this far! yay!  
We're up to longer chapters now, who's proud?  
Constructive critism and (pleasepleaseplease) praise is requested of you if you'd care to click the little 'Review this Story/Chapter' button down there... and please do!  
I don't own Star Wars. I also don't own the Treaty of Versailles. Go figure.**

* * *

My bloodrite was over exactly a week before my rites of adulthood.

The entire clan celebrated. The Storyteller recounted the tale of the Desert Demon in the true, ancient words. His deep voice gave an added power to his story.

We lay about the fireside, revelling in the knowlege that the Vengeful Ghost would never again come to the Dune Sea.

As the Suns began their acest once more, the fired died out. A'lzale took some burning embers to his tent. Moments later there came a bellow, accompanied by sizzling. When he emerged we congratulated him for the idea and his resourcefullness. It was inspired.

"See?" He announced to me smugly. "I can beat you at _something_."

"True. I got the sentient but yours outlives mine. We're even."

I tugged suddenly at the binding around my wrist- it was in danger of slipping away. Quickly, I excused myself.

Cheers followed me as I retired to my tent.

* * *

Four days after the human died, A'lzale's dewbak followed suit. Three days away from adulthood, our childhood was complete.

There was another celebration that night. It was broken up by an instrusion. Several humans approached our camp. I released Hieln, along with the other massiffs. The humans left quickly, cowardly in their retreat. We posted a scout, but weren't worried. For all their savagery, humans had little courage.

* * *

The next day I talked to K'qui'ca'ck, on sentry scout. We sat atop the highest dune, facing away from the camp.

"The humans were probably here to take back your captive." She grunted in amusement.

"I only wish I could have taken more than one."

"You did well. We don't have to fear the Ghost any longer. You have avenged our parents."

"I wish I could remember them."

"Memories are best left in the past, Olive." She instructed sternly. Too sternly. She quickly changed her tone. "Look ahead. Remember, you're an uli-ah for two more days only."

"I know. And I don't mind that I didn't know my mother. I've got my SandMother."

"Ah- not for long. Soon you'll be a mother yourself."

"Soon? Hardly!"

"A SandMother can dream, can't she?"

We fell into comfortable silence. K'qui'ca'ck was second only to Quphi to me. Since we had survived the Demon together, she had been my 'SandMother', a term we had created ourselves. A unique word for a unique situation. And, as K'qui'ca'ck had said to me, a special name for a special uli-ah. _Olive._ It certainly was 'special'. I never liked it.

"Can I change my name at the rite?"

"No, Olive."

"Please? I could be K'k'qui'ca'ck."

"I'm not your father, Olive."

"Fine then. K'... what was my father's name?"

"I don't know."

"What? Why?"

"He... I never met him."

I paused. "Well then, my mother's."

She paused. "I don't know it."

I jumped to my feet. "Do you know anything about me? Why am I Olive? It's not a proper name!"

"Olive is _your_ name. Always has been, and, as long as I'm around, always will be."

This time the silence was awkward.

"I should go and see to Quphi."

I left.

* * *

"Ququ!" I yelled over the wind. It was picking up again. Another storm so soon?  
When I was a very young uli-ah, the Shaman had taught me how to interprt the storms as omens. I never took him seriously, but now I was beginning to see where he was coming from. I got a bad feeling from the disturbed dunes. Quphi hadn't moved.

"Ququ!" I urged again. She slowly turned, ambling towards the camp.

"Ququ!" She broke into a run- as fast as I'd ever seen her. She turned again- _towards the storm._

I could only hold on.

The sand whipped around us as we ran together. The wind howled, reaching my skin by somehow worming through my bindings. My mask, obscured by the hood, began to struggle. I was gasping for the air, so angered and violent around me. In vain I pulled on the reins, trying to turn Quphi. She braved on, racing the sandstorm that could so easily claim our lives. I wanted to call for help, but who was there?

No one. We had to survive. The two of us.

Thinking quickly, I began to urge my Bantha on. Spurred by my sudden change, she moved ever faster. We reached the eye of the storm. The wind calmed. The sand settled. For the moment, we could rest. I barely jumped off Quphi before the collapsed, exhausted. I knelt beside her, stroking coarse hair lovingly.

"Why?" I asked sadly. She grunted, raising her head towards me. I took comfort in her dark golden eyes. I wished she could talk Tusken.  
But the eyes were enough.  
She was scared.

She began grunting again, trying to stand.

"Sh-hh. Easy, Quphi. E-easy."

We found shelter under a lip of a crumbled cliff face. I led Quphi to the back, but she turned and sat across the entrance. She was protecting me with her bulk.

"Thankyou, Quphi. Sleep now. Sleep."

We slept.

The storm blew itself out before we woke.

* * *

"Alright. Let's get back to camp. I should apologise to K'qui'ca'ck."

I mounted swiftly.

"Ququ!"

We began to move off.

"Why was I so rude? It was a stupid argument, huh Quphi."

I got a snuffly response.

"It's okay, though. Today we'll go out and have fun- our last day as uli-ah! Well, my last day."

Again a snuffle, affectionate and understanding.

"And tomorrow, we'll have our rites of adulthood! Do you think A'lazale will be a good mate? I think so. And Fsii, he'll be perfect for you- as long as you stop running off into storms, that is!"

My inane chatter was cut off sharply. Quphi's huge head whipped around. Djat'sn was racing aimlessly over the dunes.

"K'qui'ca'ck? Djat'sn!"

My shielded eyes saw K'qui'ca'ck wasn't riding her Bantha. It was strange- perhaps she had wondered off, it wasn't too far from the camp, but why was she running? Had she been spooked?

"Ququ!"

We tried in vain to catch up. "Djat'sn! _Djatsn!_"

She didn't slow. She was nearing a cliff. Again I shouted her name, Quphi joining my voice with roars of warning.

It was no use. Djat'sn disappeared off the ridge.

We drew up before the edge. I peered over. Djat'sn was splayed far below, across a rocky plane. I felt sick. K'qui'ca'ck would be… the revelation hit me suddenly.

"Ququ! QUQU!" We rode, faster than ever before.  
The camp came into view.  
My fears were confirmed- that and worse.

The reason a Bantha would hurl herself off a cliff.  
The _only_ reason.  
Poor, dear K'qui'ca'ck.

She was dead.

They were all dead.


	5. Animals!

**Ooh, dramatic!  
Sorry this is being posted all in clumps, I just got a new computer (yay!) and now I must upload chapters!**  
**Speech may get a little confusing in this Chap, as there are several languages being spoken. Please tell me (via REVIEW) if it's not clear enough who's speaking what. You have three choices; Tusken, Basic or Huttese. It's the million-dollar question.  
You may have picked this up by now, but I don't actually own Star Wars. I do, however, own my new computer. XP. 17 inch. Junker, but helluva lot better than my last one!**

* * *

I walked slowly around my camp.

There was the storyteller, lying across his tent. He had only told one tale, and well, too.

There was the shaman. His powers hadn't saved him.

Banthas lay everywhere. Quphi was bent over Fsii's carcass, snuffling sadly.

And there, there was A'lzale. Tomorrow we were supposed to be mated. But now he was gone, slaughtered along with the others.

A clump of uli-ah caught my eye. Who could do this? Not one over ten. Pure innocence lay slain on the sand. I recognised them all, and all were recognised. Not a single uli-ah had escaped.

K'qui'ca'ck was in front of them, protecting their huddle to the end. I felt only despair. She was gone. No doubt A'g'gaf'gt had fought valiantly for her, as he lay beside, but they had lost. Everyone was dead.

The Avenging Ghost. The Desert Demon.

He had avenged. He was a true Demon.

Why had I been spared? Alive only to see death.

Quphi pushed her head against mine. I grasped her coarse fur, burying my emotions in her mane.

I wished death would claim me. Only tortured sleep obliged.

* * *

I woke to Quphi's familiar nuzzle, her warm breath.

Memories of my surroundings flashed into my mind. I began to scream. I didn't want to go on. I had lost two clans. My family. K'qui'ca'ck. A'lzale. My friends. Everyone. Everything.

But it had ended! Surely, with my bloodrite, I had ended it. Where was the wisdom in our ways? The shaman had been wrong. I had angered the Demon, not put him to rest.

I began to tear at my bindings. Removal of them meant death. Good. I wanted death.

My mask fell. My hood. All up my arms. My shoes. From ankle to knee.

With my face bare to the wind, I felt its cruelty. The sand that had cherished me now stung my skin. Tears fell from my eyes. I had never cried before- not that I remembered. But I cried now.

Quphi watched as I flung myself to the ground, willing the hot sand to bury me.

She bellowed to the skies.

I continued to cry.

* * *

Through my despair I didn't hear the cloaked man approach. It saw the carnage, took it in. It bent over me- I heard its surprise when I sobbed.

"Hello there," It said something in that babbling too-many-sounds talk, 'Basic'. The tone was strange.

I grunted, rolled over and swiped viciously towards it.

"Monster!" I screamed.

It grasped my arms. The grip was strong, but not painful.

"Easy there, child. Easy."

"Get off me!" I understood nothing of its strange speech. The grip stayed too strong for my attempts.

"Can you understand me?" It switched to huttese. A curious accent, and still too many sounds, but I knew the words.

"I no understand _Animal_!" I spat back in the broken huttese I knew.

"Easy, child. I'm not an animal. And neither are you. What happened here?" It gestured to the surrounding bodies.

_What do you think happened?_ I wanted to scream, but instead, said simply, "My clan."

"I'm so sorry."

"No you not. Demon avenges you kind. You glad."

"Demon?"

"No play ignorance. You _animal!_"

"Hush, hush. I really am ignorant. But not an animal. My name's Obi-Wan Kenobi."

He was acting kind. A _deceitful _animal. Although…

"Olive."

"I am sorry for your loss, Olive."

With no other options, I decided to trust the human. O'bi'wa'nke'no'bi.

"I… thankyou."

Quphi nosed my shoulder. I stroked her broad snout, whispering to her in Tusken.

"Is this yours?" O'bi'wa'nke'no'bi's mouth broadened.

"Quphi. My Bantha. I her Tusken."

The mouth broadened further.

"Quiphy?"

"Quphi." I corrected, trying to mimic the mouth shape.

"Quphi and Olive. A curious combination."

"O'bi'wa'nke'no'bi and none. Curious combination."

"Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan corrected.

"Obi-Wan?"

"That's right. Were you raised by Tuskens?"

"I am Tusken."

"I see."

I didn't stop to listen to Obi-Wan any longer. I moved towards my clan members, sinking down beside K'qui'ca'ck. Obi-Wan followed.

"Your friend?"

"Sand mother. We survive Demon last time. Only me now."

I let my head sink. Obi-Wan's sunk only slightly.

"Last time?"

"I new born uli-ah." I said uli-ah in tusken, hoping the human would understand. "She near rite adult. Clan all die- we no. Join this clan, now they all die, me no."

"It must be hard to lose your mother."

"My mother lost last time. K'qui'ca'ck s_and_ mother. We argue yesterday. I never say sorry."

"I'm sure she knew." The strangely accented huttese became even stranger, slower.

"I burn clan now. Please." My head dipped almost to my chest, I was so overwhelmed in sadness. Quphi nosed me again.

"Would you like help?"

"Quphi."

Obi-Wan stood at a respectful distance as I arranged my clan in a pyre.

I cried more. K'qui'ca'ck's hood and mantle were scorched with blaster fire- or maybe the glowing weapon. I removed her pouch and stroked it. Her bindings were still tied fast. Good. She had died without shame. I held the decorated pouch close for a moment, then set it aside. I placed my SandMother with A'g'gaf'ft, and next to them, A'lzale. The Shaman lay on the bottom, next to the Storyteller. The uli-ah formed a ring around the elders. Quphi pulled the Banthas towards their respective Tuskens. Crying softly, I pulled the embers of our fire towards the pyre, setting it alight.

My Clan went up in that fire. My entire life. In the dancing flames, I caught sight of the smoky spirits, rising to the twin suns. They rejoiced in noble death.

"Goodbye."

* * *

I watched the fire until it burned down. All that was left were smoking bones and tusks, mixed with gaffi sticks. I pulled A'lazale's stick from the coals. It was charred, but as strong as ever.

Obi-Wan watched me.

"I have no one." I said to myself in Tusken. Turning to the human, I began again to speak in huttese.

"Where I go? Nowhere. Who I have? No one."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment. "Would you like to come with me, Olive?"

"Me and Quphi?"

"Yes, if you like. But we should get you out of here."

"We?"

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed oddly. It was strange- the head never moved to show emotion, just alien looks and mouth movements.

"Me, I suppose. Or even Quphi and me."

"Quphi help!"

"I'd be glad for it." Again the broad mouth. It was strange.

I grabbed Quphi's reigns and swung myself up, still holding K'qui'ca'ck's pouch and A'lzale's gaderffii. I nestled into the comforting saddle and hooked my possessions below my seat.

"You up?" I asked Obi-Wan.

With action I hadn't thought humans capable of, Obi-Wan mounted, landing deftly behind me.

I switched back to Tusken. "Ququ!"

We rode away from my camp. My clan.

To where?

I wished I knew.


	6. Learning from the Best

**Yes yes yes... a familiar face... wee bit of a cheesy idea, but meh. I like Obi-Wan!  
Do I really have 2 beg 4 reviews anymore? You all must have realised I like them...**  
**Yup- My personal ownership of Star Wars has been denied. Thus I don't hold jurisdiction, copyright yadayadayada-  
No more notes. How sad. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"This you home?"

I conveyed surprise through my shoulders, raising them high. What little expression I could put through Huttese was almost pathetic. I should have paid more attention to K'qui'ca'ck when she taught me the stupid language. There were a lot of _should have_s playing around in my mind. I dwelled on them for the entire ride, speaking up only when the meagre homestead came into view.

"For the time being, it suits my needs." Obi-Wan replied.

"Solid," I commented, banging one wall with a fist. Looking at my hand, I realised it was bare. My bindings! I was disrobed! My bare skin was visible from my feet to my knees, from fingertpis to elbows, and, most shockingly, my _head_.

"You have robes?" I asked, frantic.

"Surely you can't be cold, Olive." The broadening of the mouth occurred again.

"I die for this! My robe!"

"Easy, Olive. I won't hold you to it. Come in, and I'll find you a cloak."

I left Quphi outside, telling her I'd be back soon. She grumbled. I spoke in Tusken so Obi-Wan wouldn't overhear.

"I'm sorry, Quphi. I'll be out soon, and we'll ride together again. I'm not sure what we'll do, but for now, we should stay here, with the human."

She snorted.

"I know they're monsters, but Obi-Wan seems almost friendly. Maybe he's an exception. For now, it's our only choice. We'll be okay."

She snorted again, but lower and sweeter.

"Yes, I promise."

She butted my shoulder.

"Greedy. We'll search for hubbas later. You should sleep now."

She sighed and dropped to her knees.

"Good Quphi. Sleep well."

I turned back to Obi-Wan.

"I no been _inside_ before. Only tent."

"Then we'll pretend it's a tent."

I followed him in.

* * *

Obi-Wan pulled off his hood as he sat down. I was instantly appalled. Humans had no respect for tradition! I reminded myself sharply that I was without mantle, half my bindings and mask.

I was handed a woven cloak, dusty grey and hooded. I wrapped it tight and wished I had a mask.

Disrobed, I identified Obi-Wan uncertainly as a male- without proper, gender-specific robes I couldn't tell.

"You boy or girl?" I asked, slightly rudely, but I wasn't at the stage of treating this human to manners.

Again the mouth-broadening! It happened so often.

"Uh… boy."

He made the strangest sound I had heard yet- an odd call made up of two key phrases, repeated. It was shocking.

"What that for?"

"Laughing, you mean?"

"_Laughing_?"

"When something's funny, humans laugh."

"All humans _laugh_ like that?"

"Provided they have a sense of humour." _His _mouth threatened to widen again.

"And what with mouth broadening?"  
"That's smiling. Done mostly for the same reasons as laughing." He was very patient, explaining the human customs. "Or when we're happy."

"When Tusken happy, we raise head." I demonstrated. He copied. Almost.

"You just show hate."

"Oh- that can't be right." He _smiled_.

"Why no? You no hate Tusken?"

"There is no emotion, there is only Peace."

"What?"

"It's a mantra I lived- live by. Hate doesn't do anyone any favours."

"Hate make me strong."

"It blinds you. You called me monster when we met. You think all humans are monsters?"

"Yes."

"We're not."

"Most are."

"Many humans would say 'Sand people are monsters'. They're blinded by hate, just as you were. When I saw you, I didn't see a Tusken Raider. I saw someone who needed help."

"So… you no hate Tusken?"

"Never."

"You good human."

"Thankyou, Olive." Again Obi-Wan smiled. I tried to replicate it.

"Smile?"

"Almost. It looks more like a snarl, but you're close."

"Snarl like-" I snarled, a deep, guttural sound.

"The visual version of that."

"Oh. I try again." Second attempt.

"That's a smile."

"It hurt."

"Sometimes it hurts to smile- but you always feel better for it in the end."

I didn't understand what he meant. I got the words, the Huttese was clear, but the _meaning_ passed me by. My head spun a little. I was exhausted.

"You should lie down, Olive. I'll make sure Quphi's fine."

I slumped where he directed me.

"You good human."

I fell asleep.

* * *

When I woke up, I forgot where I was momentarily. For one sweet minute I imagined I was back in my tent, waking up on the day of my Rites of Adulthood.  
I heard a sound at the entrance.  
Probably K'qui'ca'ck, hurrying to wake me.

"Too early," I complained.

"I may have to learn some Tusken, mightn't I?" Obi-Wan's strange voice reached my ears, speaking in Huttese.

My mind was wrenched back to reality. No rites tonight. No marriage. And no K'qui'ca'ck.

"Human no speak Tusken. Tusken speak Tusken." I affirmed. Our language was unique to us.

"No humans speak Tusken? What about-" He stopped talking suddenly.

I knew that as 'Oh dear I almost said something I shouldn't have', but maybe it was different for humans. Maybe he couldn't remember the word.

"What?"

"Do Tuskens speak Basic?"

I snorted. "Too many sound. No good, bad accent."

"Well, that would be my main problem in learning Tusken, I think. Here."

He passed me two hubbas. So, the human knew how to harvest gourds. I thanked him accidentally in Tusken, then repeated it in Huttese. He motioned to a small pile of them, stacked on a low bench.

"For Quphi." He explained. " I have to go out, but I'll be back soon."

"Yes. Thankyou." I smiled- or got as close to it as possible. It seemed odd to explain an absence, but, then again, humans were odd.

I followed Obi-Wan outside. It was a relief to be in the direct sunlight again. He struck out, moving towards a sheltered area below a distant monolith.

Quphi shuffled towards me. I stroked her flank and offered up a hubba. It was promptly consumed. As I gave my Bantha the next one, I chided her.

"Greedy. I'm getting you another!" I pushed her away playfully when she pushed against my shoulder, begging for the gourds. I finally gave in, dumping three more in front of her.

I turned to look at the retreating human.

"Where do you think he's going?"

* * *

I sat with Quphi and watched the suns rise to their height. Obi-Wan had been gone an awfully long time. Not that I was concerned.  
But I was curious.

"What do you think- Should we go and check it out?"

Quphi stood in reply.

"I'll take that as a _yes_, then."

Checking my Cycler was attached firmly, and A'lzale's Gaderffii next to it, I mounted.

"Ququ!"

We rode at a leisurely pace, enjoying the simplicity of wide sands. I let my cloak flap open in the breeze, not caring for once about the Tusken way. It felt comfortable and right to have the wind in my face and my hands free to work the reigns with added dexterity. I tried out some laughter. It barely worked. Instead I issued a hoot, pure Tusken in calling. Quphi replied with a bellow.  
It was right. The two of us, galloping across the sand of Tattooine.

"Obi-Wan?" I called out as we neared the shadows he was concealed in.

"Olive!" His head shot up.

I forcibly calmed myself. It wasn't a challenge, it was surprise. Humans were different, remember.

"What you do?" I asked, swinging myself off Quphi.

An eerie blue blur caught my eye. The Ghost! "Demon!" I screamed, launching myself at the blur.

"Olive! _Olive!_" Obi-Wan tried in vain to deter me.

I grabbed my Cycler, not caring that it was a long-range weapon, and I was an awful shot anyway. I began shooting. Some of the bolts hit the mark, I was sure of it. But the Ghost was unharmed. Obi-Wan finally managed to wrap a hand firmly around my arm, sending my already poor aim further off-kilter.

"Olive, wait! He isn't the Demon. This is my... friend."

I looked at the no-demon. It was another human. Apperently male, with long hair, including on his face. He was blue. Shimmering.  
A ghost. He had to be.

"What he?"

"A Jedi Knight." Obi-Wan's words made no sense.

"I Tusken- you Human. What he?"

The unidentified male spoke up, in Huttese. "Tusken? You?"

"I no have robe, but I Tusken!" I was indignant.

"I don't think so," blue-not-demon mused.

"Qui-Gon..." Obi-Wan seemed to be warning him.

"And you said _I_ picked up the strange ones." He said in Basic, none of which I understood.

"What you say?"

"I'm saying, _Olive_, that you're human."

_Human?_


	7. Human

**Yay! Revelation time!  
And another ripped-off character... I like Qui-Gon, too.  
This chapter caused many problems... my new computer crashed just as I was adding the last full stop. No joke. I lost almost all of it! grr  
But is all good now. Enjoy! (and Review. lol I'm going to bore you all to death with that!)  
And what would the AN be without the highly witty disclaimer?  
I don't own Star Wars.  
HaHA! You were expecting a joke, weren't you?**

* * *

"What you mean, HUMAN?"

"Thankyou, Qui-Gon. Ever-helpful." Again with the Basic. I could only guess what Obi-Wan was saying. Well, I didn't care. I was a _Tusken_.

"You didn't know?" Blue-not-demon stuck by his absurd claim.

"I Tusken! My clan, Tusken! My sand mother, Tusken! A'lzale, Tusken! All Tusken!"

I refused to listen to this blue thing. I turned away, to face Quphi. If I was a human, how come I had such a strong bond with a Bantha? And why would the Clan have taken me in? Why would K'qui'ca'ck have taken me in? No- I was a Tusken.

The Humans had a low conversation in Basic. I watched them uneasily.

"_Qui-Gon!"_

"_You didn't tell her? She has a right to know, Obi-Wan."_

"_How do you know she's not a Raider? Have you seen under a Tusken hood lately?"_

"_Look at her. Don't you recognise the face?"_

"_Should I?"_

"_Think, Obi-Wan. Use your instincts. Where have you seen those eyes before?"_

Whatever they said, it made Obi-Wan stare at me. All of a sudden his eyes widened, and he spun back to the blue man.

"_I don't believe it."_

"_Believe."_

""_But… how? She's not the right age or anything! I was there, Qui-Gon."_

"_Perhaps she's not his."_

"_But the eyes-"_

"_Who did _he_ inherit _his_ eyes from?"_

It was the blue man's turn to study my appearance. Unkempt and tousled from the wind, my long, dusty brown hair seemed to be a point of interest. I was utterly lost for meaning in their strange words and sudden urge to study my looks.

"Shmi." The blue man said softly. I had no idea what 'Shmi' was, but it sounded important.

"_His mother?"_

"_Apparently _her_ mother, too."_

"_Should we- I mean… Owen? Should I tell him?"_

"_That he has a half-sister who believes she's a Tusken Raider? How would that conversation work?"_

"_About as well as this one is going to, I think."_

I was fed up with the two men discussing whatever it was they were discussing. Someone was going to tell me what was going on. Now.

"You explain now." I demanded of Obi-Wan.

He made useless noises, starting sentences and stopping them again. It made less sense than a Jawa riding a Bantha backwards.

"I can explain." The blue man stepped forward. I flinched away.

"You? You ghost. Demon. You kill my clan."

"I'm a ghost, but I'm no Demon."

"If you ghost, You know who kill my clan."

He paused. Then, "Yes. I know."

Obi-Wan's head whipped around to face the ghost. I ignored him, still confused about human body language. The ghost ignored him, too.

The ghost continued, "But that's not all I know."

"You think I not Tusken."

"I _know_ you're not."

"How?" I challenged.

"I knew your mother."

I was stunned into silence.  
My mother- my real, true mother.  
I had always imagined her as tall, poised and a fine rider.  
I used to dream of the two of us riding our Banthas together, so skilfully we were the envy of our Clan. We would return triumphant with some sort of quarry to the waiting arms of my Father.  
Father would be taller than Mother, and stronger even than A'g'gaf'gt. A skilled hunter and a wise warrior. He would congratulate us and we would sit together around the fire to hear a tale from the Storyteller, or a show by the Shaman.  
Sometimes in my dreams I had a brother. He was the pride of the Clan, the best hunter there was.  
And we would be content.  
But those were dreams. This was my reality.

* * *

I sat, leaning against the curled up Quphi. Obi-Wan crouched beside the ghost.

I was waiting for my explanation.

"I met your Mother. It was years ago, but I knew her."

I was enraptured, despite myself. My _Mother_!

"She was a slave."

"No." I hissed. She was a great Rider! A fine hunter!

"She was also human."

"No!" This time I shouted. How could she be? She was a Tusken! Else why would my Father have mated her? My wise, strong warrior father!

"You know my Father?" I was hesitant. What slander would he lay upon him?

"I knew your Mother before they had met."

If that were so, he must be an old ghost. She would have been less than fifteen when he knew her.

"But he was human, too." Obi-Wan spoke up.

"_No!_" I had to deny it. Accepting their words meant accepting that I was not who I thought I was. "How could you know?"

"I- met…" he looked to the ghost, who nodded solemnly. It was a gesture used for the passing of a death sentence in my culture. I ignored the irony. "I met his other son."

"What?" I had a brother. Just like my dreams. But he was human. I was human. "You say, I have brother?"

"Yes." The ghost said, just as Obi-Wan replied, "Two."

_Two brothers? But how?_

"One, I'm sorry to say, is lost." The ghost hung his head, I was sure this was a sign of sadness for humans, too.

"You mean, my brother dead?"

"One, yes." I didn't register which man said it. The words rang in my ears, converting to Tusken within my mind. _Two brothers. Both Human. One is dead. Your parents are human. You are human._

"So I have brother? One brother?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

Again the men exchanged looks.

"You should take her." The blue man said in Basic. Whatever it meant, it made up Obi-Wan's mind.

"I'll take you to him."

My brother. Imagine going through life without any family, no roots to trace back, no lineage. Then imagine discovering that your roots weren't what you thought they would be. I had coward's roots, human roots. But I had a brother.  
And for now, that was enough.

* * *

"You tell me who that?"

We were walking to our destination. I'd been forced to leave Quphi behind with the blue man, something I was _not_ happy about. I wondered why Obi-Wan trusted and respected the blue man so.

"He you father?"

"You could say that, I suppose."

"So… he _no_ you father?"

"No. He's not my father, but sometimes he feels that way. He taught me everything I know."

"Like K'qui'ca'ck."

"Like K'q'ka'c." It was a good effort to say her name, but he failed dismally anyway.

"What his name?"

"Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon Jinn. He's a very wise man." Obi-Wan was smiling a smile I hadn't seen before.

"Qui-Gon shaman?"

"Jedi." He corrected. "As am I, as a matter of fact."

"What is Jedi?"

"What _were _Jedi. You're not the only one to have lost your people."

"I sorry."

We fell into silence, save for the scrunching of the sand beneath Obi-Wan's boots. I had wrapped cloth strips around my feet to protect them. I made odd footprints in the dunes until we came into sight of a homestead. I recognised it. A young human lived here. And two adults. I kept walking.

"Wait." Obi-Wan held my elbow.

"What?"

"Look over there." He pointed.

He pointed to the man, the one who only a few days ago had been aiming a blaster at me.

"His name is Owen. And he's your half-brother."

The man who had wanted to shoot me was my brother. He was older than I was, much older. He was tall and strong, and I was willing to bet he had better aim than I did. From afar I could see his hair- dusty brown.

So that was it.

My Father was human.  
My Mother was human.  
My Brother was human.

I was human.


	8. Back to Basic

_**Hai!**_  
**This chapter's written as a reprieve from the tragic/greusome events of recent times.  
I apologise in advance to all non-SW-nerds who stumbled onto this fic, as there are several nerd-jokes within.  
I tried to de-nerd it, but I think I failed just a teensy-weensy-little bit.**

**As you all may have realised by now, I am not the legal owner of Star Wars or any of its affiliates.  
I am, however, the leagl owner of THIS PENCIL.  
What pencil you say? A-ha! I have been foiled. I'm on my computer.  
Well done.  
You're a smart cookie.**

* * *

My mind was so absorbed in contemplation I didn't realise where I was walking. It was almost a surprise when Obi-Wan and I reached the monolith's shadow.

Quphi ambled over to greet me. I took one look into her deep eyes and let a sob tear from my throat. I fell onto her, allowing our combined collapse to the ground. I lay there and just let the tears come.

If I was human- which I was- had K'qui'ca'ck known? How had I come to be with the Tuskens? Was it then my fault that my Clans were massacred?

Was I responsible for my family's deaths?

The blue man- Qui-Gon, began to speak softly to me, in Huttese.

"Have you accepted what must be truth? Who and what you are?"

"Yes." And my answer was true.

Without realising it, I had accepted my species. I was human. Without my uli-ah hood, which I had outgrown anyway, I wasn't following custom. If I had disrobed in my camp, I would be dead by now. Thus I was dead to the Tuskens. Perished alongside my clan.

"What do you want to do?" Obi-Wan leaned close.

I shied slightly away, uncomfortable, despite his probable good intentions. Human body language was as foreign to me as legitimate business was to a Jawa.

"I want meet brother."

I made up my mind through the tears. I spoke through the silvery traces along my cheeks, tasting salty in my mouth. It was disgusting, but crying felt just so right. I had to do it.

I think I shocked the _Jedi._ In a way I hoped so. Perhaps it meant I wasn't a regular human. Maybe I was special.  
Unique, as K'qui'ca'ck used to say; '_Unique Olive the uli-ah_- try saying that ten times quickly!'  
It was hard in Tusken.

"And I want greet in Basic."

My last comment _did_ shock them.

"I thought you said you didn't like Basic?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I no like human then either. Now I like both. I human." My mind was made up.

The Shaman had always said I was the stubbornest uli-ah he'd ever known. He'd wanted to train me when I was younger. Apparently I had showed 'intellectual promise'. I proceeded to show that I was the most insolent, impertinent and downright stubborn Tusken in the camp. The Shaman's training lasted all of three weeks before he gave in and just let me ride all day.

The stubbornness that had allowed me to spend my days with Quphi then was still curled up inside, underneath my despair. I drew on it now. When I made up m mind, no single power on all of Tattooine could un-make it, not even K'qui'ca'ck.

"You teach Basic?"

"If you're sure you want to learn."

That was Obi-Wan. He was a cautious man, never jumping to conclusions or saying anything without the highest degree of tact and measure. He seemed the opposite to Qui-Gon. I wasn't sure whom I liked better, but then again, I never understood why some played off their acquaintances against each other, weighing up who they liked more. I liked them both.  
It was strange to think that here I was- on my fifteenth birthday, a day when my entire Clan would be celebrating in our ancient cultural ways- conversing with two humans, one of them a Ghost, about how I was human, and that I'd like to learn how to be one, please.

"I sure."

So I sat with the _Jedi_ and began to learn words. I picked it up faster than anything I had ever learned before. It was like I was meant to speak it. Well, I suppose I was. We began to speak wholly in Basic after only a few hours. I stopped a fair bit to gain conformation, but soon I was more literate in Basic than I had been in Huttese.

"You good teachers." I was getting the hang of this smiling thing.

"You're a brilliant student. Obi-Wan never worked this hard." Qui-Gon smiled, too.

"Really?"

"It was a joke, Olive." Obi-Wan did something I learned was called a _grimace_. It was slightly similar to a smile.

"Oh. I didn't realise. Tuskens tilt their head to the side when we- _they_ make a joke."

"Humans generally smile, or their tone of voice changes." Qui-Gon explained.

"I work on my tone of voice. I still have my accent."

Neither Jedi could deny it. Their voices flowed over the language. Mine sounded like a rockslide was crushing each sentence.

"You're doing brilliantly." Obi-Wan affirmed.

"I hope I can learn everything soon. Learning shouldn't take this long!" I smiled, showing I was making a joke.

"Learning is the pursuit of a lifetime."

"So you've stopped learning?" I directed my second joke at Qui-Gon.

"See your thinking, but no. I'm not going to get off that easy."

"Death is easy?" I joked again, before what I actually said registered. "_Is_ it easy?"

Obi-Wan looked at me in a way I couldn't identify, but Qui-Gon understood my meaning.

"It's harder to be left behind."

I hoped K'qui'ca'ck and the others hadn't suffered. I found myself hoping Qui-Gon hadn't, either.

"How- how did you…" I was nervous to ask. What sort of a question was it?

"It's a long story."

"Isn't every story? They never end."

Obi-Wan smiled, but strangely. I suddenly felt a horrible weight. I recognised that feeling he was projecting.

"Were you there?" I asked softly.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon stood protectively next to Obi-Wan. It reminded me of what K'qui'ca'ck used to do when A'g'gaf'gt blamed me for something. I blinked back a tear.

"Maybe we turn our focus to happier thoughts?" I suggested.

"There's some hubba gourds around somewhere."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, there are things in this galaxy more important than food."

He grinned. "Like what?"

I found myself smiling, too. Up until this point I'd thought of Obi-Wan as a strict, mature man. He was certainly quite old- I had learned from the Shaman that human's hair greys with age, and here was a near-silver head, complete with beard and moustache. Now his eyes seemed to sparkle. I took it cautiously as a sign of happiness. Or amusement.

"Quphi probably eat them all by now."

Obi-Wan's shoulder's sagged. I had no idea what that meant. The Tusken _non-hostility_ didn't really fit with the moment.

"We back to sad things again." I was proud of myself- I was really getting this joke thing down-pat.

"Well, what makes _you_ happy?" Qui-Gon asked empathically.

"It my birthday today." It was all I had. It wasn't much in the way of joy, but there you go.

"Happy birthday. How old are you?"

"Fifteen." I smiled back at Obi-Wan. "I an adult today."

"Congratulations."

"Tonight I was supposed to be mated. And Quphi. They both dead."

"I'm sorry." The Jedi spoke in unison.

"That word been used too much. We supposed to be happy. I still have Quphi, so I happy. We been together since we were seven. How long you two been together?"

Obi-Wan's smile returned. He looked slightly upwards. I thought about it- that was remembrance. "I suppose since I was thirteen."

"We were apart for a while, though." Qui-Gon added, almost sadly.

"Quphi and I never apart." I laughed a little. "She the best birthday gift I ever have. She more than a possession, though. She my best friend."

"Jedi were never allowed many possessions."

"But some?"

Qui-Gon laughed now. "Birthday gifts, mainly."

"From you? Did you give Obi-Wan a gift when he turn thirteen? When you met?"

Obi-Wan's laugh was loudest out of anyone's. "He gave me a rock."

* * *

**I'm issuing a quick plea here-  
If anyone knows who 'bex' is, please do tell!  
I like to thank my reviewers, and I can't do that unless I have their pen names!  
Of course, if bex is just a random who doesn't have an account, that's okay too.**

**And a last quick thanks to my most dedicated reviewer;  
Yes- it's you, awb! (that's my new nickname for artemiswolfboy. just thought of it then)  
PLEASE ALL REVIEW LIKE HER!  
cheers!**


	9. Neath the Monolith's Shadow

**Let's have a yay for more shameless character placement!  
Yessir, this chapter has more copyrifghted characters than a SciFi convention.  
I realise Olive's picking up this Basic thing quickly, but meh. Who wants to read 30,000 chapters on learning a language?  
You do?  
How boring you are.**

**And here we go... comical disclaimer;  
I NO OWN STAR WARS. I NO OWN THIS COMPUTER, EVEN. I at school. hehe.  
Not very comical, I know.  
I'm running short on ideas!**

* * *

All in all, I spent three days learning Basic with the Jedi.

In that time Qui-Gon came and went, flickering in and out of his blue existence. Obi-Wan and I grew closer. I began to truly accept who and what I was, and in doing so, allowed myself to form a friendship with the complex old man. I respected him for his wisdom, and ridiculed him for everything else- his accent, his sense of humour, his appetite (which was frankly _enormous_) and even his willingness to accept me.

He'd always answer my questions about my Tusken life with "The ignorant cannot judge." I recalled the first time we met, less than a week ago, yet a lifetime away. I had been an uli-ah. Now I was an adult. I was more mature, more learned, but also more stubborn. I found that in common with Obi-Wan. I mostly remembered what I had called him. An animal. A monster. I thought with remorse that those were names used to describe Tuskens.

We had celebrated my birthday in solemn happiness, which is an oxymoron, I know. But it was appropriate for me- I was the personification of a contradiction-in-terms. After our understated party, I buried A'lzale's gaderffii under the shadow of that monolith. I went by myself, as a way of putting his memory to rest. It had been Qui-Gon's idea. I had to move on from the past. Still, I stubbornly decided to discover what had killed my clan, if the Demon truly existed or not. If it was a living being, I resolved to find them in order to tell them explicitly how I felt about them killing my entire clan. I wouldn't be with the Jedi for that.

The three of us talked, in Basic, about how we'd ended up in the Monolith's Shadow. I was fascinated with their talk of other planets. Of course I had looked to the stars and known what they were, but I had no idea as to the variety of life, climate and surroundings. They shared old stories of Missions together. Jedi helped people; that was their primary mandate. But the lives they had lived were truly remarkable. I loved hearing about the environment of some planets. Some had masses of water- something I couldn't imagine- others were all green with plant life. They talked of _Coruscant_, their home of sorts. The entire planet was a city, bustling and shiny.

I told them about the wonders the Dune Sea held. Neither of them, I could tell, was particularly fond of Tattooine, so I determined to convert them. I told them about K'qui'ca'ck and all the things we did together. I told them about the first Shaman I had known, who went to ask the Sarlaac a question on life and ended up losing his own. I told them about the four Storytellers I had known, and the tales they recited. And I told them about Quphi. How we used to ride so close to storms that K'qui'ca'ck would worry we had been pulverised by sand, when we raced and chased the winds and the bond we shared. By the end of all that, if they still didn't like Tattooine, they sure liked my Bantha.

We talked late into the third night. I was almost completely fluent, and I had no idea how. I had learned an entire language in three sun-soaked days. Obi-Wan tried to explain it to me.

"It's in your blood."

We'd laughed at that. I don't even know why.

* * *

Fluency established, I had achieved my preparation. Now was the moment of truth.

I would meet my brother.  
I would greet him in Basic.  
And then, who knew?

Together, Obi-Wan and I left for the Lars homestead. It saddened me to leave Quphi behind, but as Qui-Gon pointed out, a Bantha wouldn't be best received. He promised to look after her as best he could. I knew he would.

I was dressed plainly, with no hint of my Tusken garb. I had altered an old Jedi tunic and crafted rudimentary boots from dewback hide. I didn't publicise where I got the hide from, knowing full well the Jedi were pacifists. That just wasn't my nature, human or no.

We scaled the top of the last dune and saw the suns shining onto a small homestead. Somewhere within, there was my brother.

"You sure you're ready for this, Olive?"

"To meet my family? I've been ready all my life."

* * *

_Luke ambled over to the droid. It was comprehensively broken, that was for sure. He began to grumble. _

"_Stupid thing. I could be racing Biggs right now, but nooo, I have to fix you."_

_His complaints were interrupted by the entrance of a girl. Just a girl. Nothing remarkable about her, really. She was a few years older than he was, she had dusty brown hair, and- okay, there was one remarkable feature. Bright blue eyes, like a couple of glowrods perched under her eyebrows._

"_Can I help you?" He asked politely._

"_I sure hope so." The girl's voice sounded like rock on durasteel. "My name's Olive."_

_

* * *

_

I recognised the boy instantly due to his distinctive blonde hair. A few weeks ago I had eyed him, weighing up my chances of capturing him for my bloodrite. I was glad this wasn't my brother.

"I'm Luke." He chirped. "What'cha after?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"No one here but me and my Aunt and my Uncle." He talked quickly. It was hard to understand.

I was about to say something when he shouted out.

"Ben?" Luke was looking over my shoulder.

I whipped around. 'Ben' wasn't a word I knew. Was it a name? Did Luke himself have a brother? I was confused. Obi-Wan stood half-concealed in an alcove. No one else.

"Hello there, Luke."

"Hey, Ben! What'cha doin' here?"

"Escorting young Olive to her brother."

I was utterly perplexed. _Ben?_ His name was Obi-Wan! He shot me a wink. Winks could mean many things. I reserved judgement on the translation, thinking it best to just let Obi-Wan do the talking to this Luke.

"Who's her brother?"

"Owen Lars."

"Uncle Owen?"

I caught my breath. If Luke's uncle was my brother, then that would mean… I had a _nephew…_

"If you're my Uncle's sister, then I have another Aunt. Brilliant!" My nephew was ecstatic.

"Aunt Beru! Aunt Beru!" he suddenly hollered, causing my ears to ring and my body to flinch.

A man's voice answered. "Will Uncle Owen do?"

He was older than I had expected, younger certainly than Obi-Wan, but nowhere near my age. His brown hair was still very much brown, with only the tiniest hint of any greying. He had eyes that danced in their sockets, but they didn't look like Luke's.

I froze. From where he had entered, I was behind Obi-Wan. Chances were he hadn't seen me. And so he hadn't- he was giving a stare- disapproving, I believe- to my human shield.

"Ben Kenobi. How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

I was proud of myself for recognising the sarcasm. Then I realised Owen was having a go at Obi-Wan.

"Luke, your Aunt wants you inside."

"But she just sent me out-"

"Luke! Just go, okay?"

Muttering under his breath, he obliged- though he threw one last look in my direction. I smiled at him. He smiled back before rushing to his Aunt. His _other_ Aunt.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but-"

"But you had to? Is that it, Kenobi?"

I could tell this wasn't going well. Owen had a stubborn streak. Just like his sister. I decide to break the stalemate. Before Obi-Wan could retaliate I stepped out from behind him.

"He didn't _have_ to. I asked him to come."

Owen looked at me closely. Vague recognition passed through the lines on his face.

"And why would you do that, little girl?"

"My name's Olive, and I'm not a _little girl._ I'm your sister."


	10. Undeniable Truth

**Hello... good to see you back again!  
A quick note about previous chapters- I will be making changes, due to inconsistencies both realised by myself and pointed out to me by reviewers (see? It pays to review! hinthint)**  
**One such change is the learning of Basic. No one could pick it up in three days, I know. I've been doing a lot of midnight-writing recently, and my brain stops working around 5pm. So it's been extended to three _weeks_. Yes, still unbelievable, but MEH.**

**Right... STOP- _DISCLAIMER TIME_!_ (hammertime_ style, folks)**  
**I don't own Star Wars. I don't own Tuskens, Jedi, Tattooine, etc.  
If anyone CAN own a Jedi, you're Obviously some sort of NinjaFreak.  
Or a member of the 501st.  
Must stop to cry now... WAAAHHHHHHHH!** **SO SAAADDDDDD...**

* * *

I didn't have to work too hard to recognise Owen's surprise. He rocked back and forth for a moment, mouth hanging open.

"Sister?"

"Sister."

His face lost all discernible shape, jaw dropping and the like. His expression changed to wide eyes and back again several times before composure was regained.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Obi-Wan touched my arm to calm me. "She's telling the truth."

"Of course she is. Any _more_ relations you'd like to bring me?"

"Excuse me?"

I was ignored.

"_Excuse me!"_

"What?"

"If you're going to shout at someone… don't."

He fell into silence for a moment. "Why are you here?"

I swallowed back tears that threatened to fall. "You're my brother. I wanted to know you."

* * *

After an awkward silence, Owen invited me inside. I stayed relatively close to Obi-Wan, especially when I saw the interior. Everything was scrubbed bright white- it was eerie. A woman was busy at a bench, preparing some sort of food.

"Beru?"

"Owen! What was Luke doing back in here? I thought you- ohh. Hello."

She noticed her guests.

I showed off my most practised and impressive smile. "Hello."

"Hi. I- _Ben?_"

"If I'm not welcome, I'll leave."

"No no no, not at all. Sit down, you three. Lunch is almost ready…"

"Beru?" Owen tried to cut her off.

"I'll call in Luke, I sent him out again…"

"Beru!" He failed.

"And who are you, sweetheart?"

"Olive. And I'm no one's _sweetheart_."

"Pleased to meet you, Olive. You're staying for lunch? What brings you here?"

"I'm Owen's sister."

That shut her up. Finally.

"I think we all need to talk." Obi-Wan mediated.

Beru sat down next to Owen. She grasped his hand that was laying tensed across the table.

"Can we start from the start, then?" Owen looked me in the eye.

I matched his gaze. "Seems the best place."

Beru decided to speak again, but with more restraint this time.

"I don't understand this. Shmi was your mother?"

I looked at Obi-Wan. He took the hint and answered for me.

"We believe so."

"But, how?" Owen grabbed his mate- _wife's_ hand tighter.

"I don't know. I was hoping you had some answers."

Beru's face showed something I didn't know. It was complex. "Owen- you know what this means? She did have the child. Despite everything, she had the child."

"Am I 'the child'? If so, stop calling me 'the child'. My name's Olive."

"Sands and suns… Owen, it's true!" Beru's face became happy.

"Olive?"

"Yes, Owen. That's my name."

"Shmi was going to call him Oliver. Dad said."

"He? If you're still talking about me, I'm a _she_."

I couldn't really tell, but I thought Obi-Wan suppressed a smile.

Owen shook his head. "Of course you are. It's just a bit of a shock for me. We all thought you'd died along with Shmi."

"What?"

"You don't know? Oh, of course you don't. Shmi… there's no easy way to put this, but she-"

"-Died. I know she's dead."

I guess they were shocked at my bluntness.

"Look, Shmi was like my mother-"

"She's not your real mother?"

"My real mother died when I was young. Shmi was my step-mother- Dad's second wife."

"So who are my real parents?" My mind felt like a grain of sand in a furious storm.

"Shmi and Cliegg." Beru said quietly.

I nodded thankyou. Clarification was good.

"So you're my half-brother. Who was your mother?"

"Her name was Aika."

"She died and Cliegg remarried?"

I thought it was a normal question. I was confused, after all. What sort of a man takes two mates- _wives_? It was barbaric. But I had to hear Owen out. Somehow I think I'd insulted him. His answer was very short.

"Yes."

I felt my temper rising. I had a right to ask these questions! Obi-Wan placed a hand on my shoulder. It served to calm me, make me slow down to ask the next question- a question I had wanted answered all my life.

"How did my mother die? Do you know?"

There was a long silence. Beru looked at me for a long time, in what I guessed was sympathy. I wasn't sure. Owen seemed to find something on the tabletop interesting, because he kept staring at it. I couldn't see anything. Finally he took a deep breath and looked at me straight.

"You're- you're sure you _want_ to know?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise, would I?"

I felt Obi-Wan's hand again, my personal anger meter. It was something I had discussed with the two Jedi- my 'short fuse', as they called it. I was quick to temper, but maybe that was just in my nature. I had always been this way- it had never mattered before.

"It was when Shmi was pregnant with you- just over eight months."

I had no idea why eight months was relevant. How long were humans pregnant for?

"She went out, just to pick mushrooms. Just like she did every morning. But this time, they were waiting."

"Who?" I couldn't help interrupting his dramatic pause.

"Sand People."

"Sand People?" I asked, having never heard the term.

"Tuskens." He almost spat.

Suddenly I could hear my blood pumping, up through my ears, across my chest and down to my feet. The storm of my mind raged ever fiercer. _Tuskens. _I didn't want to hear what was coming, but something told me I had to. I _had_ to.

"They took her, stole her from us."

Owen's hands were shaking. My entire body was.

"They captured her like an animal. Like _she _was the animal. But they were. We gathered a party to rescue her, but the beasts set a trap. Most of us were killed. Our father lost his legs. And I… I was unharmed. We didn't find her, though. All that sacrifice for nothing."

He stopped talking, consumed in an unidentifiable emotion. Beru put her arm around his shoulders, and continued the tale.

"It was a month before… before Anakin came."

"Who's Anakin?"

Obi-Wan answered for me. "Your other brother."

"The dead one?" _Too blunt_, I chastised myself. But I was right.

"Anakin came looking for Shmi. When Cliegg told him what had happened, he went after them. The next day he returned with her body. We just assumed... they're animals, the Sand People. We thought you'd have perished before Shmi."

"What about… my father?" It was a struggle to keep words coming.

"Cliegg never recovered from his wounds, and the loss of Shmi. He passed away within a year."

"But he knew about me?"

"We thought you hadn't made it."

"Well, what about Anakin?"

Owen began to speak again. " We never even told Anakin about you."

"Why not?"

"It was easier if he didn't know. The grief he felt was greater than anything I've ever seen. He…"

Beru again took over. "A few days later, Owen and some others came across the camp. It was destroyed, burned to the ground. There were no Sand People left."

"You mean… _Anakin_ killed the entire clan?"

"Clan?"

I instantly regretted my slip of the tongue. But that was secondary to my other feelings.

The 'lost' clan had performed a bloodrite on my own mother. My Sand-Mother had watched my real mother die.  
The Desert Demon we had so long feared. It was my brother.  
No matter which way I looked at it, Tusken or Human, I was the same.

An animal.


	11. Here's Trouble

**WOOT! Tenth chapter! (The prologue doesn't count)  
This chapter's a tad on the short side, but meh.  
(I think I've used that exact same sentence before. Again, meh.)  
I'm so thrilled to see all these reviews! A HUGE thankyou to all my lovely readers for making me so very happy.  
I may even stop nagging in my ANs. Maybe.**

**Okie-day, let's get on with the disclaimer. Ooh, actually, gungan dialect seems like fun...  
Mesa no ownie Star Warsa. Speking so would be bombad. Mesa no bombad, mesa happee!  
Let us never speak of this again...**

* * *

I began to shake uncontrollably. Unaware of anything else, I collapsed to the floor.

My life had fallen apart.

Darkness clutched my senses. Nothingness guided me into oblivion.

* * *

"Olive? Olive!"

Someone was calling my name. A hazy face came into view. It was Obi-Wan. Seeing my eye open, he propped up my head and cradled it gently. Beru held a cup to my lips.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I began to cough. She drew the cup away.

"I'm not," I hacked, "A sweetheart."

"She's okay." Obi-Wan said in his wry fashion.

"I'm sorry to break that so harshly, Olive." Owen spoke without his usual hostility.

"It's alright. I just… I've never done that before."

I looked to Obi-Wan. He always had the answers for me. All I got was a shoulder squeeze. I assumed it was a friendly gesture. Comforting, maybe.

"Some fresh air, maybe." Beru suggested.

I nodded feebly. Obi-Wan helped me to my feet. I wavered, unsteady still, but then my arm was being wrapped around a shoulder. _Owen's_ shoulder.

"Come on, then." He said softly.

I was grateful for his care. But was it real affection, or just what he felt was right?

* * *

We walked up to the top of the tall dune, where I sank to the sand, letting the warm grains trickle through my fingers. Obi-Wan sat beside me. We enjoyed the silence for a moment while my head cleared. I confided in him quietly about Owen's change of attitude towards me, hoping for advice on human behaviour.

"So, you're not sure whether it was brotherly love or chivalry."

"Shee-vul-rye?"

He explained the new word. I still couldn't pronounce it properly.

"I've got to have the worst family relationships on Tatooine." I sighed.

"I don't know… mine's not fantastic."

"You have a brother you hardly know?"

"Yes, actually. And he's called Owen, too."

"You're not my brother, are you?"

He laughed. "What do you think, Olive?"

I tried to join his laughter, but it came out as the wrong thing. Tears slid down my face.

"I wish you were my brother, and not…"

I couldn't say his name. The demon. I dissolved into a crying wreck. Again.

What had happened to the strong uli-ah of a month ago?  
I had an answer to my own question.  
That uli-ah had become human. And she had become me.

"We should go inside." Owen was back to his curt tone.

"Just a while longer, Owen. She needs time."

"Look, old man. Look out there and tell me if she needs more time."

Obi-Wan looked in the direction of Owen's pointed finger. His eyes widened.

Beru hurried towards me, pulling me up gently.

"Come on, Olive."

"What? What is it?" I protested.

"Bantha."

"Klait Lightdarker was taken almost two months ago." Owen explained quickly. "We found him last month. The sandpeople will be out for revenge. We have to move _now_."

I wasn't paying attention to his words, though. A bantha. I cleared my eyes from the salty tears and scanned the sands. It was her.

"Quphi," I breathed.

She had followed. Obi-Wan shot me a glance. I nodded. His already-large eyes expanded again. I didn't know the reaction, but if mine was anything to go by, it was joy at seeing her. She was my best friend, had been since we had met. Somehow she had timed her arrival perfectly. I pulled away from the others and began to run down the dune towards her.

"OLIVE!" Owen screamed out behind me.

I ignored him and kept running.

"Quphi!" I called out. She bellowed.

We fell into each other. I snuggled into her thick hair, letting any tears that hadn't been dried by the wind wipe off in her coat. She snuffled a greeting. Without realising, I slipped into Tusken.

"Quphi, oh, I've got so much to tell you… I'm glad you came… how did you find me? You're such a clever girl…"

"OLIVE!"

Owen's voice rang out again, closer. I whipped around to see him not ten feet from me. He was heaving, taking in great gulps of air.

"O-Olive?" This time it was soft. He tilted his head slightly.

"This is-" I stopped, mentally slapped myself. _Basic. Speak Basic!_ "This is Quphi. My friend."

"Friend?"

I realised my mistake. Humans didn't have best friend banthas.

"I… uh…"

Quphi nosed my shoulder blade gently. Then harder. The third time she made me stagger. I turned to scold her, but saw why she was doing it. Across the flat sand, something was coming. It was big, low to the ground… oh, no…

"Krayt!" I shouted.

"What?"

"Krayt dragon! _Look_!"

He looked. He said a word I didn't know. I didn't bother to ask for classification, due to our impending probable doom. I looked back to where Obi-Wan and Beru were trying to catch us up. They looked like tiny blobs on the side of the dune. One blob stopped and caught the other's arm. They had seen the dragon.

"Go back! BACK!" Owen yelled to them.

He grabbed me. He was going to try running for it, but it wouldn't work. We had to get away. I knew the only thing fast enough to get us to safety.

"We have to-"

I broke away and jumped onto Quphi's back.

"Get on!" I called down, reaching out my arm.

"Are you mad?"

"You want to get eaten?"

He pulled himself awkwardly onto the saddle behind me.

"Ququ!"

Quphi shot off, heading nowhere in particular. It gave me an idea. If she had run into a storm once… I scanned the horizon for swirling sand. There. If we could reach that, we could lose the dragon, keeping everyone safe. If we survived the storm.

"You're right, Owen. I'm mad."

I directed Quphi towards the storm.


	12. Eye of the Dragon

**Hai!  
Sorry for the ridiculously long wait... I don't have any excuse other than Writer's Block.  
Pathetic excuse, I know. But, clearly, you didn't mind waiting enough to stop reading this. So cheers for that!  
Erm... don't know what else to put here... oh, yeah. Disclaimer with hilarity. Right.**

**One day there will be a perfect world.  
People will love, not hate. There will be peace, not war.  
Chocolate will be beneficial to human health for real, not just in the 'but it's got antioxidants' way.  
And I will own Star Wars.  
Just a pity that's all bollocks, and could never happen.  
Pity.**

**Enjoy the latest chapter, folks!**

* * *

We ran towards the storm, dreading the moment when we hit it.  
The wind began to hiss past us. My hair blew across my face, obscuring my view. I relied on Quphi for all direction. Owen was holding on for dear life behind me. I didn't blame him. I could hear the dragon coming closer.  
But what would catch us first, the storm or the dragon?  
The storm won. I thought Owen was shouting something, but I couldn't hear any more. Quphi never slowed.  
If we could just reach the eye…  
The wind tore violently at my clothes. My boots were literally blown off my feet. My mouth and ears filled with sand that ripped at my bare skin. It was the dunes as I had never known them. Savage and unfriendly, with no robe, no hood to shield me from its wrath. I was a sitting dewback. We both were. The winds raged on, whipping us deeper into the melee. Long moments passed. I lost track of time. We were losing. Maybe we had already lost, defeated by my own home.

"I'm- I'm sorry!" I coughed as loud as my lungs would allow.

Then- calm. Silence.

"Sorry for what?" Owen grinned in sheer relief.

We had reached the eye.

* * *

"That was the craziest plan. I'm amazed we made it."

"To tell the truth, so am I."

Owen raised an unruly, windswept eyebrow. "Thanks for telling me."

"If I had told the truth, would you have trusted me?"

"I think maybe the sudden riding into the storm shook my trust more." He attempted a joke.

We both laughed, exalted at our narrow escape.  
A roar echoed off the rocks.  
Quphi, who had been laying in exhaustion, rolled to her feet and honked with fear.  
I knew that roar.

"I don't think we lost the dragon."

Owen whipped out his blaster, the one that he had aimed at me not so long ago. It was caked in sand, utterly useless.  
"Ah."

"What?"

"I think we're dead."

I turned to him, my face set in newfound expression, the one that went with my favourite emotion. Stubbornly, I declared, "Not yet."

* * *

The roars were getting closer. Owen was still trying to get his weapon working, while I was checking my Cycler. Woeful shot as I was, I wouldn't be using it.

"Owen. Use this." I passed him the heavy rifle.

"Uh… how?"

"Don't ask me. Aim and shoot. I can't aim."

"As long as you're confident."

"Was I right about the storm?"

He fell silent. I had won the argument. Quphi shifted uneasily, smelling the approaching dragon. I leaned into her ear.  
"_Easy, Quphi. We'll get through this. Don't be scared, I'm here._" I whispered low enough for my brother to not hear me in my no-longer-native tongue.

A roar, cruel and heart-stopping. It was close. I raised the dysfunctional blaster, praying to the Spirits of the dead that it would work._  
Please, K'qui'ca'ck… let it work. Please… Shmi. Mother. Let us live…_

The sinewy body came into distant view. Owen loosed a few bolts. One clipped the tail. "There's some throw on this, no wonder you can't aim." He complained.

"At least it fires." I pumped the trigger. A red light streamed out. Success! It flew wide of the mark, but it was a shot.

As the Krayt neared, I tossed Owen the more reliable weapon, still not having hit anything except sand. Instead, I reached for my Gaderffii.  
It was upon us. Rearing on stumpy back legs, it screeched. I issued a call back, if only to drown out the Dragon's. With a swinging leap, I mounted Quphi. Owen was still firing, alternating between weapons.

"What are you doing? Olive!"

"_We're not dead yet!_" I yelled, accidentally in Tusken.

Quphi charged. Within seconds she was knocked flying by the Krayt's giant head. I careened the other way, becoming entangled in the whipping tail. Winded, it was all I could do just to hold on and endure the wild thrashes. My strength gave out. I slammed into the sand. The dragon trampled over me, ignorant as its weighted foot came down on my shoulder. I felt as if life itself was being crushed from my body. It hurt. Pain like I'd never experienced. I yelled.

"Olive! OLIVE!"

I couldn't form words, just screams of no particular language. I rolled away from the feet, but only succeeded in landing on my own Gaffi stick. As it was my only option, I grabbed it. Another foot came down, this time, on my wrist. My screams crescendoed into ear splitting. I had to let go of the stick. I was doomed.

Without warning, the Dragon shifted. It turned to something else, no longer concerned with its sitting-dewbak captive. I took my chance. Using my one good arm, I held my Gaderffii and swung at the Krayt's belly, exposed above my head. It swiped at me. Again I was airborne, coming to a jarring stop atop its reptilian back. I felt something in one leg crack. Still yelling at the top of my voice, I plunged the Gaffi into its neck. I twisted. The Dragon howled in agony, knowing it had lost this fight, it would die. Exhausted, I lost my precarious grip in its death throes. I didn't stay awake to see if it really was dead.

It was black before I hit sand.

* * *

"Olive?"

A voice.

"Olive?"

A familiar voice.

"_Olive?_"

Owen!

I gasped for air, slamming my eyelids apart to face the Tatoos. "I…I…I'm o-okay."  
I grimaced. I really wasn't okay. One arm was totally useless, crushed at the shoulder and wrist, while the leg on the same side was contorted into a shape far too flexible to be natural. My head felt like fire.  
"Not okay." I corrected.

"As long as you're alive."

"Just about."

Without warning, he pulled me into a- gentle- hug. I returned it despite the pain, resting my head on his shoulder. That allowed me to see past him. To a sight I never wanted to see.

"Quphi!"

My beloved Bantha was on her side, eyes glazed over in pain, blood matting her softly coarse hair.

"Oh, Quphi." I breathed.

She snuffled up at me.

"No…" I saw her wounds. It was painfully clear what had happened. "You saved me, Quphi." I didn't need to say it, but I felt I had to let her know I knew. That I was grateful. Because her show of bravery was a sacrifice. There was no possible recovery from injuries like that.  
"I love you, Quphi." I began to cry.

"Olive… we should get back." Owen's voice was low and somehow soft. It made no difference.

"Leave me here."

"It's too dangerous."

"I'm staying."

"You can't."

"I can! Quphi needs me. I can't abandon her!"

"Olive… it's just a Bantha-"

"She's more than that! She's _Quphi_!"

He seemed to realise how much Quphi meant to me. He paused for a moment. "She did this for you. If you get killed out here, her death will be for nothing."

"She's not dead yet!"

"But she will be. I'm sorry, Olive. Really, I am. But she's dying."

"I know!" I sobbed. "I… I _know_."

I had a few more moments with her. She and I curled up together, like we had every night since I was seven, and I buried myself in her warmth. It had always been this way- the two of us, bound together in what was so much more than rider and mount, more even than friends. It couldn't end. It just couldn't. Her eyes, filled with pain, deepened into love. I could feel her breathing, her great side moving up and down with each intake and exhale, always constant. But then, it began to waver.

"I _love_ you."

The rise and fall stopped.

"Thankyou, Quphi."

Without her, everything seemed a little colder. The suns were a little darker. I was more than a little emptier.

_Must I lose everyone?_

Owen put an arm around me. I hadn't lost him. Not yet. But I would.

Because he wanted to ask me questions.  
And I had to give him answers.  
I had to give him the truth.


	13. Unforgivable Truth

**Short chapter this time, but I had to leave it where I did for artistic purposes.  
You'll get it when you finish scrolling down this here page.**

**Star Wars is not mine. It was never mine.  
Yet I loved it...  
A tale of true woe.  
Not really. I get to write FanFics instead. Fair-ish deal.**

**Have fun reading, and stay happy!  
(yes, that was ironic. Again, you'll understand at the end...)**

* * *

"Are you… okay?"

"No." I answered frankly and sullenly.

The tears that now knew how to fall threatened to do just so. I blinked them back. But by not allowing sadness to overwhelm me, I fell victim to a vicious anger that swelled inside me.  
Why did she die? Why was I still alive, after all of this death? Surely I deserved death more than my beloved Quphi, or dear K'qui'ca'ck, or any of the others- the uli-ah and warriors alike. Why was I cursed with life?

Owen's arm tightened around my shoulders. It felt unnatural, but this was what humans did. Suddenly, I didn't want to be human. I wished with all my heart that I could just be Olive, the Tusken Raider, safe and secure inside her clan, a proud SandMother watching over a joyous mating ceremony. A'lzale beside me, riding Fsii as I raced him on Quphi.  
What was so wrong with that?

The simple truth was nothing.  
Except that it could never be. Because they were all dead. And I was alive.

Owen was still holding me close. "She was very brave, Olive. She must have loved you."

I couldn't lie any more. Quphi was gone- it was an insult to her memory to pretend she was less than what she always was.

"IwasraisedbyTuskens." I blurted.

"_What?_"

I missed her strong Bantha courage. I needed it now, of all times.

"I was raised by Tuskens."

Owen was silent.

"I… I _am_ a Tusken. At least I was. Used to be."

If he had been shocked before when he'd learned he had a sister; it was nothing to now.

"How can you…?"

"I was born when my mother was taken for a bloodrite, you said." The words came thick and fast, even as I understood it all for the first time.

"No."

"You thought the entire clan was wiped out. But one Tusken survived. K'qui'ca'ck. She raised me; I called her my sand mother. I had no idea I was different, until… until my clan was murdered."

"No! You're lying."

"You think this is easy for me to accept? One month ago I was completing my bloodrite! I was about to be _mated_! I argued with my sand mother. And when I came back, they were all dead. I thought it was the Desert Demon. But the Demon is no ghost- he's my dead brother."

"This isn't-"

"What, true? Fair? I'll tell you, it's true. But it's not fair. You know what's _not_ _fair_? They're all dead! My sand mother, her mate, my…"

I had been shouting, spilling out words faster than I ever had. Now I slowed down.

"It was the day before my birthday, that I found them. I found adults and children alike. Our massiffs, our Banthas, all of them. And I found A'lzale. If he had lived just one more day, he'd have been my mate. Tell me what's fair about that."

The long stretch of silence was more than awkward. It was terrifying. I wanted to rush back to the past, when things were simpler. But I couldn't, not now.

"You're not a Tusken." He whispered.

"You're right. I'm a human. Under my mantle I was always a human. That didn't stop me from-" I cut myself off.

"From what?"

"From being a Tusken."

"But you're human now!"

"Why? Because I've disrobed? Because Obi-Wan taught me Basic? No."

"You have emotion. You're human."

"You see? Humans think Tuskens have no emotion. Tuskens think humans are cowardly, weak, and cruel. So what am I?"

Owen's answer surprised me, but filled me with something that felt like Tatoos' light, replacing my swirl of darkness within.

"You're my sister."

I knew then. Before the Dragon- that _had_ been brotherly love. He _had _accepted me.  
But I had to tell him everything.

"Owen… I'm not saying these things for your sympathy. I'm saying these things so you understand. Your life, with Beru and Luke… it's something so alien to me. Living in a clan with K'qui'ca'ck and Quphi is all I've ever known. Just because you've seen me smile… I learned how to smile three weeks ago. Before that, I had never looked at the suns from anywhere other than under my hood. All my life I've accepted death as a punishment for saying the wrong line in a story. I've tortured, and accepted torture. I performed my bloodrite. What killed my mother… I did it. I tortured and killed a man."

There. It was done. I had let slip what had consumed me since learning the truth. I could mourn my mother as much as I wanted, but I couldn't forget the human I had done the same thing to.

"You… _what?_ Not… Klait?"

"A woman shouted that as I…"

"You killed my friend."

"I didn't know any better!"

"How can you come to my home, stare me in the eyes and lie to me? How could you do that?"

"I never lied! I told only the truth! And that's- that's what I'm doing now."

He was heaving, gasping for air. I wanted to faint again, maybe wake up back in K'qui'ca'ck's tent, where everything could be normal…

"The… truth?"

"It's hard for me to tell you."

He was shaking his head slowly. That meant 'no', didn't it?

"It is hard!" I protested his physical movement.

"I…" Either he couldn't remember words, or simply didn't know the right ones to say. "My sister is an ani-"

"The Krayt I just killed to save you, that killed Quphi, was an animal."

He glanced towards the fallen beast. "You deserve each other."

He picked up his blaster. I stood my ground firmly, never showing the fear that engulfed me.

"You killed my friend, I helped to kill your clan. You should die, but you saved my life. So we're even. But I don't want to see you ever again."

He shoved the blaster into his belt. And then my brother walked away.

* * *

I looked at Quphi's once-proud frame. Stroking K'qui'ca'ck's pouch, I made my decision.

For Quphi, I would be who I should be.

I would do what I must do.

To the final rite, then.

To death.


	14. Lucky Thirteen

**Yeah... that cliffhanger was cruel...**

**I want to thank all my readers for leaving such lovely reviews- I have 27- one of my lucky numbers, so that's good.  
And this is chapter 13- my other lucky number (yes, 13's lucky)**

**Anyway...  
In life, you can own many things. Pencils, pies, rubber ducks and eggplants, and general stuff like that.  
But unless your name is George Lucas, you can't own Star Wars.  
And My name isn't George Lucas. sadface ... ):**

* * *

When a Bantha dies, their Tusken wanders the Dune Sea. If the Spirits spare their life, a new Bantha is sent across the sands. I wasn't hoping for a Bantha to wander my way. Because Quphi was one-of-a-kind, and she was gone. It would never be right, without her.

That's why I couldn't be Tusken.

We had belonged together.

That's why I couldn't be human.

And so when I wandered, it was aimless.

I clutched K'qui'ca'ck's pouch, my last link to my childhood. I studied it closely, seeing the blaster-caused scorch mark, the shattered end of one decorative horn, and finally, something that made my breath catch in my throat. Stray stands of long, coarse hair, brown as dewback leather. _Quphi_.  
When I spoke, it was in a mutant mix of Basic and Tusken. It made no sense, not even to me.

"Whatever you Spirits wanted, it's done! I'm alone!  
"I'm _completely_ alone! I've lost _everything_!  
"Why did you take her from me?"

I fell to the ground, despair overwhelming me.

"Take me!"

I wasn't saying the words anymore. Some part of me ripped the now-Basic from somewhere in my stomach. I felt sick.

"_Take me!_"

"If you like, my parents run the Mos Eisely Inn."

* * *

She was human, taller than me.  
I don't know what colour her hair was. The simple answer was every one of them. It seemed each strand was a different shade, all pulled together in a single tail at the nape of her neck, cascading past her shoulders in bright curls.  
Her eyes were shaded, her skin tanned, her clothes rough and dusty, stylised with four different belts of about six different colours, plus a few other sashes and ribbons tied around her sleeves and boots. Her legs were bound with rough-spun cloth under a long sandy-coloured top with ballooning sleeves and tied cuffs. She wore three necklaces, all different designs.

She took one gloved hand off her hips and tweaked it in a strange wave around her head.

"Chelsea."

My anguished tears halted in their silvery tracks, drying almost instantly in the Tatoo's light. Whatever she had just said, I didn't know it. That meant one of two things;  
I didn't know the word yet, or it was her name.

"Is that your name?" I asked tentatively, trying to hide the signs of my earlier outburst.

"Yeah. I'm Chelsea Berl. And you look a little miffed about something." She gave a smile- at least I thought it was a smile. It was all wonky.

"I'm Olive." I answered, ignoring her second sentence, as_ 'miffed'_ was an unfamiliar term.

"Just Olive?"

"Olive." I confirmed.

"Well, then. What're you doing out here? It's generally dangerous and all that jizz-wail."

"Why are you, if it's so dangerous?" I wasn't keen to talk to anyone- especially not another cursed human.

She pulled aside her golden top to reveal a dented grey blaster. "I'm fine. You, on the other hand, could use a bed and maybe some shoes, yeah?"

I darted back from the weapon. "I'm fine here."

"Just saying, I think you'd be better off in the _Chowbaso Eisley_."

"I said I'm fine."

She regarded me carefully. "You won't be pretty darned soon. I can _hear_ your dehydration, Olive. You sound like a broken engine crashing into a pole."

I ignored the comment, knowing full well that I was used to the dry heat, and that it was my own accent that was so offensive.

"Seriously. Not even Empire guys can survive out here. Now, unless you're some great midget crack-trooper, you should probably come with me."

The _'Empire'_ rang a little bell in my head. The Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had sometimes discussed that, back when I was learning Basic.  
Just thinking of them made me wonder- what did they think now?  
That I was dead?  
Hopefully, yes. It would be better that way.

"Listen, Olive. I've got my Eopie here now, I may as well take you. But he's a temperamental little _koochoo_, and I don't want to make him grumpy. 'Cause boy, does he get _grumpy_."

Despite myself, I became interested. "_What_ Eopie?" There was nothing in sight- I hadn't seen anything except Chelsea herself. And I usually notice these things.

Chelsea scanned the surrounding sand. Took a deep breath.

"_ECHUTA!_"

* * *

"If you're not back here in THREE SECONDS, I'm gonna turn you into Eopie _PATOGGA_!" Chelsea yelled, running back and forth, searching the horizons. "You little _peedunkey_! _Stoopa_ piece of _poodoo_!"

I watched her until she ran out of curses and breath- conveniently at the same moment. That's when I spoke. "You'll never catch him like that."

"No kidding. I'll never catch him, end of story. Pity. He'd make a nice _PATOGGA_!" She called over her shoulder, presumably towards the troublesome Eopie.

"You can catch him, just don't shout."

"He's got super-hearing now, does he?"

"He's got ears. And anything with ears on the whole Sea just heard you."

She shut up, probably because I was right.

"He'll come back for food. So wait." I explained.

She glared at nothing in particular. "My water happens to be strapped to that blasted _sleemo_. And my food. _And_ my hood. If he doesn't come…"

"Either way, I prove a point."

Chelsea mulled it over. She flopped onto the sand, crossing her legging-trousers beneath her. I sat too, but separate. Just because I was helping her regain her Eopie, didn't mean she was accepted as a decent person. It was just courteous to lend a hand to another out in the Sea. Racking my brains, I couldn't remember if that Krayt Pearl of wisdom was one of Obi-Wan or K'qui'ca'ck's. Maybe that was a good thing- combining the two.

We remained still and silent for a time, watching the lazy flecks of golden sand drift past our noses. It was calming, in a way. I had time to think. Maybe the Spirits had sent a Bantha, after all. Meeting Chelsea couldn't have been just coincidence; it had to mean something. I smiled up at both Tatoos. Maybe… just maybe… _Chelsea_ was my Bantha- on a metaphorical level, of course- and I _was_ supposed to become human. I didn't want it, but if K'qui'ca'ck wanted it, I'd do it for her. And if this was the person Quphi had chosen, I'd take her. Because I owed them.

"You look like you've been through the Wars. How long you been out here?" Chelsea asked with a gentle eagerness.

"I've lived out here my whole life."

"Family of moisture farmers?"

I nodded. Something like that, anyway. It was close enough to the truth.

"I couldn't do that. The isolation'd kill me. I like being in the Eisley, 'cause I get to meet everyone that comes to this planet. Why they come to this planet, I don't know."

I was shocked. "Tatooine's beautiful!"

"A farmer who actually likes this place? What a novelty. No armpit-of-the-galaxy comments or anything?"

I shook my head.

"_Really_?"

"Don't _you_ like it?"

"Well, I suppose I do. I mean, I don't know anything else- I've heard a lot of stuff about the Capital- you know, Coruscant. Sounds amazing, don't you think?"

"I'd prefer to stay here."

She laughed. "You know what? Me too."

"Then why-"

I stopped talking for a very good reason.

"What is it?" Chelsea asked, almost fearfully.

"There's an Eopie behind you."

"And…?" She looked excited. I was grim.

"He's… _cranky_…"

* * *

I couldn't help laughing at Chelsea's woeful attempt to catch her ride. She flung herself at the poor thing, grabbing blindly at the edge of the saddle. He released the unique Eopie scent in fear. Chelsea scrambled backwards, disgusted.

"I think I just undid all your good work." She apologised.

"I haven't done anything yet. Here, give me a belt."

She threaded a purple sash off her hips, where it had been concealed by a larger green one. That brought the belt count up to five. It was soft but unbreakable, with a strong but small buckle. I coiled it loosely in one hand.

Ignoring the impressed look I was receiving, I moved towards the Eopie, saying Tusken words designed to calm beasts. To Chelsea, it must have sounded like clucking or meaningless comfort sounds. I flicked the belt out towards the Eopie's rump. It caught the tail, causing my quarry to squeal and take a few steps.  
It went on for a few minutes, me flicking then him moving, repeating, again, and so on.

"_Hey! Stay still_." I commanded, again in Tusken.

I twirled the belt, allowing the buckle to catch, forming a lasso of sorts. I winced. I hadn't done this in a while…  
The belt flicked out, sliding neatly across the creature's neck. He settled immediately.

I passed the end of the purple lead to Chelsea. She applauded before taking hold.

"That was wicked. Where'd you learn that?"

"I picked it up ages ago."

"If you wanna keep that up around this guy, be my guest." She flicked her multi-tonal hair while she laughed.

"I like him. He's got character."

"He's got a lethal stench." She heaved herself into the saddle with ease born of practice.

"Maybe that's why he's so difficult- if you don't like him… wait, what's his name?" I asked as she showed me where to sit behind her.

"Patogga." She replied innocently.

"_That's _what I mean."

* * *

**For those who don't know, _Patogga_ means pie in Huttese.**

**I'm not going to put up all the translations, instead I'll give you this link (just remove the spaces when you paste it in the URL bar)  
**http:// .com / wiki / Huttese**  
It's for the Wookieepedia page containing all the known Huttese words. Have fun.**

* * *

**Since writing Chelsea, I got interested in her appearance, and so I drew her. In class.  
Yup... I'm going to pass year ten... totally...**

_**Anyway, I'll put up a link here as soon as I scan the picture in.**_

**WARNING: I'm a writer, not an artist. And there's a good reason for that.**


	15. Pies, Pops and Troughs

**Hello my dearest darling devourers of 'Animal'! _(Failed alliteration, shaddup)_**

**Cheers once again for (a) reading this far and (b) giving me such lovely reviews!  
I loooovvve reviews! Have you guessed?  
Thankyou also to those who offer constructive criticism. It's really helpful, and hopefully it'll make Animal better for everyone! Yay!  
**

**To disclaim is to disassociate oneself from a particular product/statement/metaphysiological concept and thereby remove all claim to rights, profits or blame.  
So that's what I'm doing.**

**I don't own Star Wars, peeps. When are you going to realise this?!?!?!?**

* * *

It was becoming dark and increasingly cold by the time we reached Mos Eisley.

I had never been this close to the city before.

I gained a little comfort from Chelsea, but the just-alien-enough movement of Patogga as opposed to a Bantha only served to unnerve me further.

This place was strange.

All the tents, well, weren't tents. They were solid, stone instead of skin. The sand was flat from the trampling of many beasts over time.  
And the people. There were so many beings, human or near-human, many of which I didn't recognise. There were so many different languages milling around it made my head ache. I picked up a few sentences here and there-

'_Chess ko, beesga…_ ' '_Schutta, koochoo-kung!_'  
'I'm not paying that!' 'My price or no price'  
'_Uma ji muna, pateesa_.' '_Kee baatu baatu, bukee._'

-But made little sense of it all. Everything was a mass of confusion.

"Olive, look there." Chelsea pointed in the direction of a large building, adorned with bright scribbles across the doorway. I caught a glimpse of a few Eopies and a Cu-pas tied to a long rail around the side.

"Welcome to the _Chowbaso Eisley_."

"You just said welcome twice." I pointed out.

"It's the name of the hotel, smarty-pants. Come on, I'll get Maha to fix you a room."

I slid off Patogga's back, patting him on the flank to thank him for the ride. He blew out softly and gave my shoulder a nose with his disturbingly floppy snout. Chelsea just stared at me.

"That's tremendously wicked, you realise."

"Ur… thankyou?"

She winked before leading me into the building. I immediately felt nervous. What if the roof caved in on top of us? It was _stone_. And not a cave- stone built up by hand. How did that possibly work out to be anywhere near stable?

"Hey, you! Close the door already- were you raised in a tent?"

I opened my mouth, then realised I had told Chelsea I was a moisture farmer. So instead I apologised to the large woman and prodded the panel to shut the door, hoping that was right. It closed.

"Give her a break, Maha. I found her wandering the Dunes."

The woman, Maha, gave Chelsea a wide-eyed look. "Is _that_ where you've been? Your father's going to skin and serve you up for tonight's dinner if you don't get that bar open. I don't suppose you've done your chores?"

I watched with interest. Was Maha Chelsea's leader or what?

"Pop won't do anything- he never does. I'll open the bar as soon as you get a room for Olive here."

Not a leader. She wouldn't talk to her like that otherwise.

"Olive? Right." She looked at me closely. "Can she actually _pay_ for the room?"

The younger girl bit her lip. "I hadn't thought of that." She turned to me. "Can you?"

I shook my head. "No money." And nothing to trade, either.

"Well, she can work with me!"

"Not likely, Chelse. You do your job just fine, when you actually do it."

Chelsea bit harder. "Wait! She can work with animals! Why doesn't she look after all those eopies?"

Maha stared at me again. "She can handle a dozen beasts, can she?"

"She caught Patogga out on the Dunes. With my _belt_."

For a moment, Maha seemed to smile. "Which one?" But then she was back to stern and sullen. "If she can tame that thing of yours, then she's got a job. Check with your father, but otherwise, she's got room _jojoba_."

"Ta, Maha!" Chelsea turned to me again. "Room _jojoba_'s not great, but at least it's got a 'fresher. I'll show you."

She directed me downstairs, which was clearly underground. Funnily enough, my claustrophobia left me. This was a good, natural type of solid, like a cave. We stopped outside a room with more markings painted on the sliding door. Chelsea punched the button, sending the grey slab skittering into its cavity in the wall.

I entered apprehensively. There was the sleeper, a small bench with a glowlamp perched on top, plus a smaller door, undoubtedly leading to the 'fresher. A bucket stood in one corner of the room, beside an even smaller bench with something stacked atop it.

"Complimentary durasheet" Chelsea explained. "Just in case you need one."

I nodded, still trying to acclimatise myself to such a strange setting. It was crazy. What I wouldn't give for a piece of hide to make a tent.

Underground, there were no windows, no way to see the outside.

I'd miss the moons.

* * *

I woke to a thumping at my door. Groaning slightly, I pulled on a loose cloak that Maha had provided me with and shuffled my way to meet the early visitor. It was, of course, Chelsea.

"Morning! Thought I'd show you around the place, since you'll be working here and all that-"

I groaned again.

"Lazybones. Come on, get dressed properly and I'll fix us some breakfast down in the kitchen. Two levels down, third on your left. Can't miss it. Says 'KITCHEN' in big Aurebesh. Our cook's an offworlder, doesn't know much Huttese. You read Aurebesh?"

Truthfully, I shook my head.

"You'll pick it up. Or he will, the lazy fat-man." She grinned once more before moving out. "See you in a bit." She called.

Rubbing my eyes gingerly, I reached for a shirt. Another one supplied by Maha, it was bright orange.

I would have bet the meat from an entire dewback that it was Chelsea's.

* * *

"Nice top. Orange suits you."

I stared at Chelsea. She wasn't serious- couldn't be. I looked like a squashed hubba left out in the Sea for a few weeks.

"Eat something." She instructed, pushing a plate of that _something_ towards me.

I took a few cautious bites, pleased to discover it tasted reasonably pleasant. I could get used to the complex flavours, in time.

"Good?" She asked, grinning.

I nodded. "Thankyou."

We were silent long enough to get second helpings of whatever it was that was tasting better each bite I took. By thirds we were chatting normally, as if we had been friends for years. It felt good, just being a normal human. In fact, I began to enjoy it.

"So... You liking Mos Eisley?"

"I don't know yet." I answered, indecision in my words. But then I said something I was sure of. "But I like it _here_."

Chelsea grinned. "Even after meeting Maha?"

"I like her. Why, don't you?"

She laughed. "It was a _joke_, Olive." Right. Jokes. _Sarcasm_. Was that sarcasm? I had no idea. "Of course I like her. Well, most of the time, anyway. She's been around most of my life."

"Really?"

"Oh, right. Maha's my step-mother. Pop's wife."

I was momentarily shocked. Chelsea was like me. Motherless. But at least she _knew_. While Chelsea herself was slight, with eyes that, upon closer inspection, appeared a sandy gold, Maha was broad-shouldered, strong-featured and full-figured. Her eyes, a warm blend of green, blue and hazel, bore no resemblance whatsoever to her step-daughter.

"I'm sorry." I said with little conviction. "What happened?"

"What happened what?"

"To your real mother. How did she die?" I realised afterwards I had spoken callously, without any sympathy or kindness. I hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Oh, she didn't die. Not that I know, anyway. My mother left with some Bounty Hunter or something when I was three. S'fine, though Pop's got Maha now."

"And you've got them both." I made an effort to smile.

She snorted. "I don't need anyone."

"I used to think that." I said quietly.

"_Used to_? Not anymore?"

"I didn't need anyone until I lost them."

I didn't really mean to say that, but remembering those few moments I realised I had.  
I was busy regretting my words when a tall man entered, blond and sandy-eyed. I cautiously identified him as Chelsea's 'pop'.

"Cheel, when you've finished, would you- oh. Is this the dune girl?"

I scowled, then hid my pleasure at my vastly-improved scowling skills. "It's _Olive_."

He looked at me with stern almond-y eyes "Right." He breathed in sharply, turning back to his daughter. "Show her the keep, then get some more _Boga Noga_ for the bar."

She groaned. "Don't tell me Yasug's coming..."

"He's back, yes."

"That _sleemo_? He'll only-"

"Get the _Boga Noga_."

She nodded sullenly. "Pop." Then turned to me. "Come on. The Keep's out back."

* * *

Chelsea led me outside, much to my relief.  
The 'Keep' turned out to be a fenced-in area containing four eopies and that cu-pas I had seen on the rail, along with two of its fellows. Another few eopies were tethered to a post nearby. There was a sign on the post, painted with more strange symbols.

"Those are the tenants'." She explained.

"And the ones on the post?"

She gave me a questioning look. "The Rentals. You can't read that?"

"Ur..." I searched for a plausible answer. Nothing sprang to mind.

"You can't read, can you?" She placed a hand on my shoulder, which I promptly shrugged off.

"I've never needed to, so why should I?"

"You want me to teach you?"

I thought of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. They were still learning, even as old/dead men. Why should I turn down the opportunity?

I smiled. "Sure."

She grinned back. "Well, to start, that over there says 'food'. You'll be needing that." She winked, and walked towrads the gate. "Just fill the trough."

Right. Fill the trough.

_What's a trough_?


	16. Welcomed in

**One helluva hello to all my wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous readers who put up with this horrible wait.  
I'm so sorry. imagine puppy eyes here, if you please  
It's been a looonnnng wait- an exam-filled, writer's-blocked, computer-broken, ridiculously LONG wait.  
But that's all over now!**

**Enjoy the next chapter, my lovely-and-oh-so-tolerant readers.**

**PS... _  
I still don't own Star Wars...  
_dang.  
**

* * *

I had to assume _trough_ was the long feeder, since food apparently went in it. Why did Basic have so many stupid, pointless words? It was ludicrous.

While I worked, feeding, then watering, then starting to sweep up the yard, a few Eopies became curious. One walked brazenly towards me and delivered a kick towards my head. I ducked, dealt my own blow to his rear, grabbed a rope hanging off the fence and hobbled him up.

"That's a warning to all of you bad-tempered, floppy-nosed…" I petered out, not knowing any more Basic insults. "You get what I mean though, right?"

A female turned her backside to me.

"Thought so. Eat up."

The Cu-pas stayed back, more reserved than the Eopies. One, a female smaller than the others, stumbled towards me.

"Hello there, little one."

She snorted, raising a sheet of dust away from her snout to reveal stark-white fur.

"Very nice. Now, go and eat." I pushed her gently towards the... _trough_. She ambled over, calling to an orange male, and then the original I had seen, a browny-pink female. They banded together to push past the obnoxious Eopies.

"Having fun?" A dry voice called from behind me.

One Eopie brayed towards Chelsea. It was the hobbled one.

"I was about to say watch him, but I see you've got the matter tied up." I missed the joke first time round, but at her suggestive smile I realised.

"Ha. Funny, Chelsea."

"Er, yeah. Olive, how's about you just call me Chelse? Or even Cheel."

"_Cheel_?"

"As in, Chelsea Berl, Cheel."

"Oh. Sure, _Cheel_." It did seem a little strange for her to be shortening her name. If I had ever called K'qui'ca'ck just Qui'ca, I'd have been strung up inside a tent for a couple of days for the insult to her family history. Clearly, humans were too lazy to say a full name and give the proper respect. Or maybe I was reading too much into it.

"You got a nickname, Olive?"

"Do I need one?" I stored away _nickname_ for future reference.

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, Oli, I get the feeling you've been raised under a rock."

I made an effort not to think about my days under the monolith. Then I realised she'd just given me a nickname.  
Oli.  
Made sense. I liked it.

"Come on, Oli. All work and no play never got anyone drunk."

"What?"

"I've got to open the bar. It's almost dark, go in and get changed. Meet me there with that complimentary durasheet of yours, okay?"

I nodded, looking at the orange shirt. Get changed. Probably a good idea. With that thing on it would never get dark.

* * *

The bar was dim and thick with sordid conversation. In one corner, men stood around laughing and yelling. In another, people in armour were talking in hushed tones.  
A few tables were occupied, some with traders obviously engage in business deals, lucrative, if not illegal, one old guy surrounded by empty cups, and one with a smiling couple attempting to ignore the seedy atmosphere.  
The bar was lined with benches, half of which were taken by a man holding a cup surrounded by attractive girls, mostly alien to my eyes. Chelsea was behind the bar, regarding this man with disgust. I slipped onto a stool, grinning, and called her over.

"Dressing down, are we?" Cheel winked at my shirt.

High collared and long-sleeved, the modesty came at a cost. The fabric was dark purple inlaid with greens and oranges, complete with a blue collar, yellow cuffs and red hem. My leggings, at least, were black... striped with white.

"Don't you own any clothes that aren't glow-in-the-dark?"

She laughed. "Look at me, Oli. What do you think?"

Her outfit was much the same as it had always been, save for the replacement of leg wraps for golden leggings. She had polished up her necklaces and now wore rings and a few bracelets. Her cheeks were streaked with pink and orange, her lips were now dyed a deep red. Her eyes were lined with blue-black marks, and to finish it off she had threaded some darker gold band onto the top part of her previously plain top.

"_Andoba Boga Noga_." The man called from down the bench.

"'Scuse me a mo, Oli." She smiled in a very insincere way before filling a cup with liquid and dropping it in front of the man. "_Chess-ko. Da fierfek, Yasug_." She warned dispassionately.

"_Smeeleeya whao toupee upee, pateesa_." He relpied with a grin.

She scowled, turning back to me.

"What a _sleemo_." She muttered.

"Why, what did he say?" I hadn't understood fully.

"Every time Yasug turns up he gets steaming drunk, hits on every female in sight and ends up renting a double room, if you catch my drift."

I didn't, but let it slide anyway. Deciding to change the subject away from him, as he was eyeing me in a way that made my skin crawl, I searched for a new topic. My eyes fell on Cheel's Pop, sitting at a table with a few hooded figures.

"Who're they?" I asked, pointing at the company.

"No idea. Someone Pop knows. But that's a broad category."

I frowned, not understanding.

"Pop knows everyone who's anyone. Outlanders, locals, legitimate businessmen, and a-hem... _completely _legitimate businessmen."

I understood up until she said the same thing twice.

"The man's got connections. Seriously- he knows a guy working as the Emperor's personal aide, he knows a guy in the upper echelons of the Rebels."

Despite having no idea what echelons were, I caught on. "So, who's side is he on?"

"His own."

"Well, does he support the Empire?"

"He supports himself, Maha, me, and this place. I don't think Pop would even notice if the Rebels won or got wiped out, except that he'd lose a few contacts."

"_Yocola_!" Someone yelled from a table.

"_Hi chuba da naga_?" She yelled back.

"_YOCOLA_!"

Chelsea sighed. "Back in a bit."

While she dealt with the orders from a table full of shady characters, I stared at Pop. That unassuming man could feasibly control the outcome of the battles fought between the Alliance (I had gathered from Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon that they were the 'good' guys, although how inclined I was to accept 'good' and 'bad' as straightforward terms wasn't set in duracrete) and the Empire.

I suddenly desperately wanted to see the Jedi again, tell them everything that had happened, get their help laying Quphi to rest properly- something I had felt guilty about since leaving her side- and maybe introduce them to Chelsea…

"Miss me?" Cheel poked out her tongue, something I hadn't seen before. But since she hadn't been gone that long, I assumed it showed she was joking.

"No." I poked out my tongue back.

She laughed. "Okay, grab out that durasheet and we'll start working."

I passed her the heavy page. She quickly sketched a symbol. "This is _aurek_. You read it as an 'a'."

"_Aurek_." I drew my own version- wobblier, but passable.

"Somehow, you've made that look like_ osk_. But never mind. Here- _besh_." She scrawled something suspiciously similar to my aurek attempt.

Tusken had no written form. I had never learned the 'aurebesh tune', which Cheel tried in vain to teach me in-between the three brawls that erupted that evening. All my writing efforts- we got up to senth- were hindered by the pain in my shoulder- pain I had somehow managed to forget about for two days, since the Dragon.

I showed Chelsea the bruise after the bar had finally closed, much later into the night. She stared at it.

"You know that's broken, don't you?"

"Do I?"

"Well, I don't think it's supposed to move in that direction."

"Oh dear." I stared at my prize bruise, whose pain was still distant under the weight of less physical afflictions.

"On the bright side…_ lovely_ shade of purple there."


	17. The 'Mos' with the Most

**Wow- it's been so long!**  
**It's actually slightly embarrassing- I thought I'd uploaded this already, but I knew I had a new chapter to upload, so I've literally spent months looking for chapter 18. **  
**Have chapter 17, folks.**  
**And yes, you may all laugh at me.**

**I don't own Star Wars.**  
**I don't own chapter18 yet, either... haven't written it. I'm a smart cookie!**

* * *

The next morning came with its own complications. The good news was my arm was bandaged up, with something I wasn't completely familiar with. Chelsea called it bacta, but I had never heard of it before. Unfourtunately, the bad news was that the restrictive binding holding the two halves of my bone together meant I couldn't crack the whip I had discovered to aid in controlling the snotty Eopies.

On the upside, it was a sunny day. Of course it was. The Tatoos shone down from clear skies, without any hint of winds or even a small breeze. I spent my morning brushing down the smallest cu-pa, saddling two irate rental eopies before starting to clean out the keep while the creatures fed at the troughs. The troughs I was now familiar with and could even pronounce.

Over lunch, Cheel and I covered the rest of the aurebesh, through to _zerek_ and even those annoying double exception symbols. By the time I was sent outside again, I was humming the tune incredibly tunelessly, having discovered singing wasn't my forte. My voice was still very much suited for Tusken rather than Basic.

Chelsea came out to keep my company as I was exercising a newcomer- a jerba. According to the owner, it was friendly and well-trained. According to me, it wasn't.

"That's kinda smelly." She pulled her top- bright pink and yellow tye-dye today- over her nose.

"I'd noticed." I grumbled, wiping the offending substance (most probably the product of an eopie) off my hide boot onto a post. A tiny amount had smeared on the cuff of my green trousers, but I wasn't too fazed.

"Looks like fun." She commented dryly while I dodged a projectile of spit from the supposedly placid creature.

"Actually, it's boring." I complained. "Jerbas are a little annoying, really. And I'm going to have to brush this one."

"My heart goes out to you." She laughed.

I didn't understand the expression. Why did I need her heart to comb out Jerba hair?

"Tell you what- I'll keep you entertained. Spell my name."

"What?"

"Learn while you work!"

"Speaking of _work_…" I jabbed my head towards the inn.

"Oh, it's fine. I borrowed a cleaner droid from the dealership next-door. Trail run apparently. So I'm free to spend my afternoon-"

"Annoying me."

"Yup."

I sighed.

"Spell Chelsea." She pressed.

I sighed again, but began to think even as I coiled the rope and fetched a brush. "_Cresh_…"

"Nope!"

Oh, right. The double exceptions. "Uh… Cher…r…rrr…"

"_Cherek_." She prompted.

"_Cherek_-_esk_-_lenth_-_senth_-_esk_-_aurek_."

"Good." She applauded. The jerba started at the noise.

"Jumpy little thing, huh." She stared at it. "Worse than a baby ronto in a cantina."

I shook my head at her bizarre analogy. "I agree." I laughed quietly at her.

"Never mind. Spell your name."

"Osk-lenth-isk- er… ver… ven… vev… vev! Osk-lenth-isk-vev-esk."

"Wicked. Now try-"

"Chelsea Berl! What in your father's name is this droid doing breaking up the bar?" Maha's voice carried out from inside.

She gulped. "At a guess, I'd say… breaking up the bar." She winked at me, probably happy to deliver the smart-ass comment without any consequences.

"Smell ya later, Oli."

I gave her a blank look.

"As in… see you later, but not. Although, I probably _will_ smell you before I see you…" She walked off backwards, facing me all the time.

I rolled my eyes- something I'd been working on, but hadn't quite perfected.

"Jerba. Jenth-esk-ren… rorn… resh… ronth… wait, resh. It's resh, isn't it?"

The jerba stepped on my foot.

I hit it.

Despite winning the short-lived fight with a big hairy jerba, my arm still hurt like _boboqueequee_. I finished the grooming and sat down, leaning on a post, my closed eyes upturned to the warm sky.

"Rise and shine, sleepy-head!"

I groaned. Clearly the droid had been dealt with.

"Hello Cheel." I grumbled.

"If you want a break that bad, you know, I could always show you around."

I opened my eyes. "I've seen the place already, Chelse."

"I mean Mos Eisley. This isn't Anchorhead, you know."

Well of course it wasn't. What a stupid thing to say.  
Even if I had known what Anchorhead was.

"Come on. Get up and maybe get changed."

"Out of these colours?" I smiled wryly. It was a good wry smile. I was proud.

"Out of that poo."

"Oh."

* * *

"This is the dealership next-door. They sell second-hand droids, parts, and tools. Mostly rubbish. But very cheap."

I nodded politely to disguise my confusion.  
I had never been in a place like this before. As a Tusken, I lived in the open sands of the Dune Sea. We might have raided a farm, or ran into a clan maybe once or twice a month. With the Jedi, we had been in total seclusion.

But this- this was masses of all forms of being, congregating in bustling streets. It seemed like even more languages were being spoken, ones I didn't even recognise as speech at first. Everywhere I looked, some new form of being would appear, getting in my way or trying to sell me something.  
If I was overwhelmed, Chelsea sure wasn't. She dealt with the sellers like naughty uli-ah- _children_. Anyone who got in her way got shouted at. It became clear she was completely used to this, a born local.

I'd give her three days out on the Sea.

"Down there's the junk saler's little alleyway. You can get a good deal out of them, but only if they can see a big blaster on your belt. If you ever need an engine, a motor, driod, even a pod, if you go to the right place…"

She continued, describing the individual wares on offer.  
I could only gape at the array of machinery scattered in piles beside stalls, in front of doors, heaped beneath a hoarding sales… something. The creature had horns. I don't know.

This wasn't exactly my kind of place. I almost expected to see Jawas running about the place, hitting things with their tiny cloaked hands, just like they did out on the Sea. The only time a Jawa had tried to sell me something, I had hit it with K'qui'ca'ck's gaderffi. I wished I had that now.

"What's down there?" I pointed to a small collection of backstreets, lined with few tatty stalls, old women sitting outside and children running around.

"Oh- that's the slave quarter. It's kinda fun to play with those kids, I suppose, but don't let their owners catch you. And don't, like _never_, go down there after dark. Slaves can't be trusted. One of my cousins got beaten up around here a few years back. Nasty stuff."

I wondered briefly if this was more assumed distaste for a certain group- _prejudice_, I think the Jedi had called it- like the kind I had been subjected to. Maybe the Slaves didn't deserve that reputation. But it was a big maybe, though, because if Chelsea's family had been hurt, it was a safe assumption that at least some weren't going to be very welcoming to either of us.

"Oh- over here- the centre of town. Chalmun's Cantina."

I looked over at the large building being leaned on by an assortment of drunks in a complete set of colours and sizes. I could hear laughter and rowdy singing from inside. With the odd crash or bang, often in time with the strange music overpowering the entire audible scene.

"The most wicked Jizz band on Tatooine plays there- the Modal Nodes. Great music." She began ticking off her fingers as she listed. "Hard drinks, hard chairs, hard floors, hardened criminals. Best not to go in there alone, but don't go in a group too big unless you want trouble. A tip to the bartender and he'll clear up a body if need be. Good place."

A small waft of air gently tugged at my blue dust-jacket. Chelsea flicked her hair away from her eyes, prompting calls from the collected inebriated men. She rolled her eyes- much better than I could, which was annoying. Scowling, she pulled the amazing stuff into one bunch, tying it securely with a pale yellow ribbon.

"Hope this wind's not another storm." She watched the dancing sand play about our feet.

"It's not." I confirmed. The feel wasn't right- it was just a breeze.

She shot me a look. "Who needs weather reports when I've got you?"

"I tell you what I _do_ need- two girls who do their jobs!"

Chelsea and I whipped around to come face-to-face with Maha.

"I'm just showing Olive around- I cleaned up the droid, and she's done everything." Chelse explained in a quick voice.

"If you're going to show her around, show her the back pen. It's filthy."

"Oh, come on, Maha! No one ever uses it!"

The woman bore down on Cheel, frowning. "Oh, no?"

She didn't waver. "No. When was the last time someone brought in anything that needed the pen?"

"If a guest brings a Ronto-"

"No one's stupid enough to bring a Ronto into Eisley, Maha."

I was looking back and forwards between them like I was a massiff chasing two separate people. "I'll clean it." I yelled over them, just to shut them both up.

"Yes you will. And Chelsea's going to help you."

"_What_? Oh, come on!"

But Maha was already gone, moving down a zigzag of alleys.

Cheel viciously kicked a grain of sand. "Poodoo and a half. I swear I'm gonna end her."

I worked out the meaning of her outburst reasonably quickly.

"I guess I'm showing you the back pen, then." She snorted. "Follow me."

* * *

Maha wasn't wrong. The back pen _was_ filthy. It was also huge.

The fence towered far above my head, able to be opened by a door-within-a-door, one I had to duck slightly to go through, and the other almost the full height of the fence itself, and almost as wide.

Chelsea had rattled the formidable-looking bolt in the smaller door until it came away from the large one it was set in, teaching me the art of kicking it in just the right place as to open it almost noiselessly- apart from the grating bolt and thump of boot-on-fence.

She looked disdainfully at the pen. The ground was covered in debris and muck- all of it, which was a fair amount. Cheel had mentioned Rontos using this space- it could fit three.

"Hey- a trough!" I pointed out.

Chelsea stared at me. "Yeah- let's all shout 'whoopee' for the trough I could sleep in. And look- another one! Hooray!"

I figured that was sarcasm. "I'll clean the troughs." I offered.

"Wicked. I'll do some sweeping, I guess, then."

And so I scrubbed and she swept until our hands were sore and our necks slick with sweat- hers more so than mine. The pen looked less and less like a dungheap the more we worked at it, and it was almost at the point of 'clean' when the light began to fade.

"That's it." Chelsea threw down her tools and held her back. "I'm totally pooped. You?"

"Uh…" _Pooped?_ "I'm a little tired?"

She laughed. "You're amazing, Oli. Half a day scrubbing old sick off walls and you're _a little tired_. Whatever you're on, I want it."

"I'm on sand. Well, at least, my- I mean your- boots are."

She slung her arm over my shoulder. I forced myself to accept the gesture. It felt like a challenge, even a threat, to me. But Chelsea was still smiling. Arm aroung shoulder was good, then. _Good._ I told myself. _Relax- it's good._

"Come on. Dinner beckons." She started walking- I was forced to move with her. "And then, of course, the bar, with Yasug and all the others…" She groaned. "Take my advice- run to your room right after dinner. Something tells me you're not a fan of the bar."

I thanked her, and determined to follow her advice.

* * *

It was night.

I couldn't see the moons. Ghomrassen, Guermessa and Chenini were all three of them strangers to me tonight. I hated that.  
Quietly, I said goodnight to them, as K'qui'ca'ck had long ago taught me to do. I spoke in my own, comfortable tongue. I used the names the Tuskens had given them, not the ones the Jedi had taught me.

My words had too few sounds to my ears.

I repeated them over and over again- but as easily as the slipped out, they weren't familiar.

I was suddenly desperate to be out on the sand again, not cramped up underground. Pausing only to slip on the blue dust-jacket again over my ankle-length nightshirt- a spectrum of purples- I ran lightly on my toes out of the _Eisley_ and into the street.

The sand wormed between my toes, cool as only midnight sand can be. There was no residual heat left- my feet were chilled. I began to run, not caring where I was going, not noticing my dully throbbing arm, not minding the night wind that blew the unfamiliarly cold sand into my face. I crunched grains between my teeth, enjoying the sensation.

I stopped short at the outskirts of Mos Eisley, too breathless to carry on. Before me was the wide open space that had for so long been my home.

I could hear the gentle hum of power generators from the spaceport. I heard the wind over the dunes. There was a quiet murmur of life behind my back. Before me lay only the deaths that I remembered too well. No sound, not anymore.

But- no.

In the distance- a call. A very distinctive call. The call of a Bantha.

So recognisable… instantly, I knew it.

But I didn't believe it.


End file.
